


A Father's Love

by SourApple



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Blood and Gore, Derry (Stephen King) is Terrible, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Finger Sucking, Fluff and Angst, Good Parents Maggie & Wentworth Tozier, Graphic Description of Corpses, Horror, Multi, Non-Consensual Touching, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pennywise is His Own Warning (IT), Pennywise is a douchebag, Richie Tozier Has a Crush on Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a kick ass dad, Richie is a single father, Torture, let boys cry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24434839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SourApple/pseuds/SourApple
Summary: Richie and his daughter, Lydia, kick off their summer going to Derry, Maine. Only for things to spiral out of control within a few days of them being there. Reuniting with old friends never felt so terrifying.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Audra Phillips, Eddie Kaspbrak/Myra Kaspbrak, Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Pennywise (IT) & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this story has been rolling around in my head for a while haha. The rating might change depending on how dark I realllyy want to go with this. If Richie is too OOC I'm sorry! I promise to do better down the long run!!
> 
> Don't be afraid to comment, I won't bite...too hard. :)

Richie Tozier's proudest moment in his early twenties is getting his first gig at a local bar. He actually had most of the people laughing.

Captivating a crowd with his jokes and small skits, albeit a small crowd, felt good. But nerve racking at the same time. Having all those eyes focusing on him made his stomach twist in knots. At times he thought they could see him sweating buckets. On the flip side however, he pulled through the whole night with a stupid smile on his face. Being asked to come back again for another performance shocks and excites him more than anything he could hope for. 

Soon he became quite popular around town, bringing in more and more people into that small, secluded bar. He even started getting better gigs in surrounding counties, slowly making a name for himself.

That didn't stop him from having a good time, having the occasional hangover isn't new for him. Neither is waking up to another person in his bed, usually a hot brunette or pretty red-head tangled in his sheets.

Time passes by like nothing, still hopping around from county to county every few weeks, having the time of his life gaining more fame and love with every show. It's been what? Almost two and a half years since he moved out of his parents house? Living on his own is nice too. He doesn't have to worry about being too noisy _(except when his neighbors are actually home. Who always seem to be away at all hours of the day.)_ Usually his apartment complex is quiet, until he would blast his music to unwind on his days off. 

One rainy morning, something wakes him up. At first he thinks it's the damn alarm clock from his youth, screaming bloody murder in his ears. In his groggy state, he slams his fist onto the blasted device, only to realize the sound isn't coming from it. And groans at the mostly blurry green numbers of his clock. Groaning again he shoves his head under his pillow.

 _What the fuck? It's seven-fucking-thirty._ _What day is it? What millennia am I in? Am I even alive?_

When he goes to sit up, everything in his body wails in protest. Fucking hell he drank too much last night. "For _fuck's_ sake." He stumbles out of bed, shoving on his glasses, barely tripping over his own feet. Richie makes his way to the living room, finally realizing what the hell he's hearing. Crying? More importantly, it is distinct wailing of a _baby_. The muffled cries are coming from behind _his front door._

Scared shit-less, and silently praying that he isn't going to be shanked, Richie opens his door. He can't help but stare in bewilderment that someone had the fucking _audacity_ to leave a baby out here in the _fucking rain_. The only good part is that the poor thing is wrapped up in a little pink blanket in a basket. He has no clue how the fuck to take care of a baby nor has the necessities to properly take care of one. Being an only child doesn't help much, so improvising something won't help either. 

She only cries harder when he picks up the basket, making him freak out even more. There's a blank, slightly damp envelope poking out the side of the blanket. _Goddammit._ He huffs, sitting on the sofa, basket sitting on his lap. On the verge of a panic attack, he rips open the envelope, and reads it. Once, twice, a third time. His guts twist with so many emotions, he almost feels like puking. 

_Maybe you should've used a condom asshole. Hope you enjoy the backlash from this._

What the actual fuck? This isn't just his fault, it takes _two_ _to tango_. She easily could've gotten on the pill, or god forbid, had an abortion. That thought feels vile to even think about, especially when the baby is staring up at him. Her small face relaxes as they watch each other. Shit, she definitely has his eyes and nose.

Richie's chest clenches, the reality of this finally dawns on him.

This is _his kid,_ his own flesh and blood. He doesn't have the kind of heart to abandon his own child. Hell, his old man would kill him if he did that anyway. It makes him sick to think that whoever the mother is did this in the first place. _Fine,_ Richie will be the responsible one for a change. _Who'd expect it huh?_ Even if it demolishes his dream to be a comedian, so what? 

Thing is, money is tight at the moment. He hates the thought of running to his parents for help. They would shit bricks that's for sure, but he does need help right now. He can't leave her alone in his apartment. 

As it turns out, ringing them up is the best decision he ever made. To his surprise, they are more than happy to aid him. Getting him what is most important, for the time being that is. (A crib, car seat, bottles, formula, diapers and clothing.) Over time he can get whatever the hell she needs on his own. Which will take forever, considering his attention will have to be focused on his kid 24/7.

Once again, he is proven wrong. Not only by his parents, but by the cosmos too. Richie doesn't need to forget his dream to work a 9 to 5 job. On nights of his gigs, grandpa and grandma Tozier would happily watch his little ray of sunshine.

_Maybe there is a god after all?_

* * *

Through the years, Lydia walks beside her father's footsteps. Sporting a long messy mop of dark, frizzy hair, with a similar facial structure. She is definitely her father's daughter, not so much the attitude but more his appearance. The splash of freckles that pepper her vanilla skin come from her mother. Who is still absent in her life, Lydia prefers it that way to begin with. Why care about someone that abandoned her from the start of her life anyway?

It's always been _her and Dad_ together. From making a mess of her bedroom walls with paint, to staying up late to watch scary movies, and taking photos of places they visited on Richie's tours around the US. Then cramming said photos into scrapbooks. If it weren't for him, she wouldn't be sitting at her desk looking back on her first and very worn out scrapbook right now. One that holds all of her favorite memories of her childhood. 

Artwork from her years in school, line the splattered walls of purple and blue. Each show her skills building as time goes on. But of all artsy things she loves most is photography. Capturing a moment with a simple snap amazes her. A picture can be worth a thousand words, if one takes the time to observe it.

Above her desk hangs a cork-board full of her top favorite Polaroid photos.

One is of a squirrel with a coke can, looking ready to take a drink from it. Another photo is her laughing at an old picture of her father, in one corner a few fingers that belong to the same man can be seen. Distinct writing in the space under the photo reads: _"You wait and see what happens to you in twenty years, Lids. XOXO - Dad"_

A new picture she just put up earlier that evening catches her eye again. Two matching colored graduation caps are siting on a park bench, hanging from them are split Yin and Yang necklaces. 

Her heart flutters as she curls her fingers around the Yin charm, a small smile pulls at her pale lips.

_Early morning beams of sunlight filter through trees around them, setting the red-head's pixie-cut ablaze. Lydia's eyes trace the leathery burn marks up the other girls arm all the way to her shoulder. Molly Avery has been her best friend since 3rd grade. Every kid in their class was scared of the red-head, except for Lydia. She could see through what the other kids couldn't, or maybe it was her blindness to fear? Who knew?_

_Lilly-pad colored eyes frown at her. "It's up to you, Spiral, you know that. You don't have to come with me."_

_Lydia pulls at her beanie in frustration. "I want to, but-"_

_Molly's scarred, leathery hand tenderly holds hers. Regaining the raven haired girls attention. "It's okay Lydia, it really is. I want you to be happy too, ya'know?"_

_She gives Molly a look of defeat, and sighs. Out of nowhere the red-head starts up again, twining their fingers together. "Okay here's an idea, we make a promise right?" They stare at each other._

_"A promise?" Lydia pushes her shoulder into Molly's._

_"Yeah yeah, say, we don't find anyone by time we're like I dunno...in our late thirties..we look each other up?" Her usual dopey grin turns into a smirk._

_Lydia can't help it when she laughs dryly. "Thirties? Are you nuts? We're just kicking our way into adulthood. What happens if one of us falls off the edge of the universe?"_

_A high pitch titter of giggles escape the ginger._ _"Pppfftt..Spiral you are always thinking so negatively, get those thoughts outta your thick skull!" She bumps their shoulders again, squeezing Lydia's hand lightly._

_With her free hand Molly pulls out her cigarettes, gesturing the carton to her. She lights Lydia's first, then her own. After a few minutes of birds chirping, Lydia lays her head on Molly's shoulder, watching the smoke curl out the other side of the girl's black-cherry painted lips._

_"You and I both know that won't happen anytime soon. Although, it's not a bad idea to begin with. But our late thirties? Doesn't that seem like a long time to you?" She straightens up again, staring into wide emeralds._

_"Oh wow, one of my shit ideas is actually good all of a sudden? Holy hell are you okay? Is there something in these cigarettes that I don't know about?" She taunts, taking a second to glance at her cigarette for dramatic affect._

_With a shit eating grin, the red-head takes a long drag. Lydia rolls her eyes, blowing smoke through her nose, savoring the burn and the taste through her senses. "Fuck off Molls." She shakes her head, while the other teen snorts, and coughs on smoke from laughter._

_"Anything for you, Toadstool." Her voice coming out raspy with an awful New Jersey dialect._

_"I hate you." Lydia smiles flicking ash onto the red-head's ripped_ _plaid jeans._ _"Yeah, yeah." She retorts gleaming._

A soft knock on her doorway brings her back to her room. "Earth to Lydia, how's it lookin' up there?" Richie asks in a news anchor's voice, leaning on her doorway.

A broad smile across his face. Glancing over her shoulder, she responds in a similar fashion. "It appears like it'll be a bright sunny day, ain't a cloud in sight!" He nods, releasing a light puff of air.

"Mind if I come in?" She tilts her head, swiveling in her chair to face him.

Throwing a sour look his way, but smiles anyway. "My door is wide open Dad." Taking his time, he sits on her bed across the way.

"Good point," He's not acting like himself and it's weird. "Can't always be sure." Richie's eyes are halfheartedly searching her bedroom.

"Dad, what's wrong?" Lydia spits out, rolling her swivel chair over to the bed. He sucks in a deep breath, and slowly breathes out, finally making eye contact with her.

"Where the hell did all that time go? God, it feels like yesterday you were running down that hall with your hand in a jar of peanut butter." His nose scrunches at the memory, while Lydia giggles showing her teeth, slouching.

"You were so pissed." Richie pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"I wouldn't say pissed, I was disappointed. Mostly by the fact that it was a brand new jar, I was heartbroken." He cries crocodile tears, making her snort. Lydia ignores his statement as a whole, smirking at him.

"But really, Lids. You grew up too quick for me to keep up. Seems like every time I turned around you just.." Her dad huffs, gesturing towards her.

"Hey it's not like you _weren't_ here for me when I needed you." He grins, looking past her, holding back on a question. He spots the new picture, and Lydia's necklace. 

Biting his tongue, he decides to ask a different one. "Do you want to go on a trip? We can go anywhere doesn't matter if I'll hate it, I'll just complain the whole time. Think of it as a graduation gift." They wouldn't have to worry about time frames for shows. If they're lucky nobody would recognize Richie, but that's a shot in the dark with a bow and arrow.

"Anywhere?" Lydia squints at him quizzically.

"That's what I said. Jeez, I know you're getting older, but I _didn't_ know you were going deaf." He crosses his arms, chuckling at her scoff.

"Shut up Dad! I can hear just fine." There's no bite to her tone.

Richie holds his hands out in comedic defense anyway. "Alright, calm down precious. So what'll it be, hhmm?" He leans forward, resting his chin in his hand, patiently waiting.

She bites her lip. "Maine, I wanna go to Maine." His eyebrows fly up, then crash back down into a frown with the rest of his face.

"For the mooses? Moosen? Neither of those sound right. Meesen?" A rotten feeling eats at his spine thinking about the place. Although he has no memories of that town other than it being horrible. It's annoying the crap out of him.

Lydia taps her cheek, swaying from side to side in her chair. "I think it's just moose? No..doesn't seem right either..I donno. Anyway, back to the topic. I want to see your hometown, Derry right? You never talk about it."

Taken back, Richie is the one squinting this time. "How the hell do you-"

"Check your wiki." He rolls his eyes mumbling under his breath, the demon spawn he calls his daughter throws her head back laughing.

"Jesus, you _really_ want to see that shithole?" Wiping her face, she points a finger at him.

"Hey! You said anywhere!" If he wasn't already pale, she would have noticed the color draining from his face.

"Alright I get it! My hands are tied here. But I'm-" Her devil horns keep growing as she smiles.

"'Going to complain the whole time.' I know." This is one of those moments Richie sees too much of himself in her. Shaking his head, he gets up to retreat to the living room.

"I love you!" She calls after him in a sickly sweet voice.

"Suuure you do. Oh yeah, pizza is on its way. What movie will it be for tonight?" He stops, not a second later she screams back.

"Lost Boys!"

Christ. "Again?" Richie groans in defeat, watching Lydia emerge from her den with a wide, bright smile.

"What? It's a classic!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo I was debating on posting this next weekend. Or at least when i finished chapter 3. But here we are! Lol  
> I'm going on vacation in July, hopefully, if I keep going at the pace I am. Chapter 3 will be up before then. <:D..  
> Anyway, hope ya'll enjoy this one, cause it's mostly fluffy.  
> Feedback is welcome, loves!

Not even five minutes from entering Derry, Richie pulls over to the side of the road puking his guts out.

Puke rains over the railing of what he remembers to be _'The Kissing Bridge'_ from his youth. Thank god nobody is around to witness the awful sight spewing from him. Aside from his daughter.

Lydia gives him a worried glance when he returns, Richie just smiles weakly at her, his head feels like it is about to pop. This is going to be one hell of a time.

"I don't think I can eat Arby's ever again." He breathes slowly, resting his head on the driver seat groaning in disgust. She rakes her hair into a messy bun, making a face at him.

"Okay. That was disgusting, I almost puked out of sympathy. You good? Want me to drive?" In a small voice with a tiny hint of sarcasm, he looks her in the eye, feeling drained and tired of this place already.

"No yeah, I'm alright. I'm fine." Then rubs his forehead, she gives him a 'bullshit' stare.

"You sure you don't want me to take over?" Pursing her lips, tapping her fingers to _'Sweet Child O'mine'_ on the radio.

"..Maybe...Jesus I still feel it in my nose." She gags audibly at the statement, halting her drumming. Her father laughs bitterly.

"I _do not_ need a visual. _Jesus_ \- That doesn't - Dad?" She holds her breath watching him lean his head on the steering wheel, taking deep breaths.

"Dad?" She repeats, touching his arm gently.

"I'm okay, just need a sec. We're not too far from the hotel anyway." His voice is uncharacteristically soft, it's not like him at all. When he does look her way. He gives her a tight grin, squinting his eyes. "Don't worry about me, okay?" 

_'Someone has to.'_ She glares lightly at him. 

Nodding, she can't shake a weird feeling that is rippling through her skin. It makes her fidget, staring at her cuticles considering whether or not to pick at them. 

She chooses not to.

* * *

"That receptionist was giving you _the look,_ Dad." Lydia's wolfish grin kind of uproots him.

 _'What goes on in that girls head?'_ He stares at her in disbelief. Their usual light banter picking back up.

"What the hell are you on about?" He deadpans her.

She sighs not giving up on picking at him. "Aw c'mon _old man_ , don't like being called out on it?"

Richie curses under his breath as he flops down on his bed. Sort of wishing he could sink into it or just turn to dust and fly out the open window.

"Oh I'm sorry, I was trying to ignore her showing off her exposed shoulders." He shakes his head, not giving a single fuck where this goes now.

With wide eyes, Lydia bites back a laugh. Sitting Indian style on her own bed across her father. _"Oooohh I see._ I think there's still time for the both of you. She still has color to her hair!" She laughs twirling some loose curls around a finger.

He chucks his pillow at her, nailing her in the face. She screams playfully falling into the sheets, wrapping her arms around the pillow.

Gaining some satisfaction, Richie points at her. "Alright, shut the fuck up." Laughter explodes between them. She crinkles on her side trying desperately to breathe between giggles.

"Gimme my pillow back dammit!" Her father holds his hand out expectantly. His lively tone, gives her an idea. Wheezing, she throws it back at him. Not as hard as she wants to but it gets the job done.

She reaches into her beaten up, purple faded satchel. Pulling out her Polaroid, waving it in the air triumphantly. "Oh my god, I haven't laughed that hard in so long."

She glances at her Dad with a silent 'thank you'.

Sitting up, Richie watches her hop over next to him, beaming ear to ear. His heart melts a little bit more. Still wondering how lucky he is to have Lydia in his life.

"Here, let me." She lets him take the camera, coiling an arm around his neck. He holds it at a funny angle that he _knows_ will drive her nuts. And pulls her close practically hugging Lydia.

He can feel the daggers stabbing at the shit eating grin on his face. Richie decides to immortalize the moment in picture form.

"Noo!! oh Jesus. I _hate_ you!"

 _'All according to the plan.'_ He chuckles evilly, definitely one he'll keep for himself if she doesn't want it.

The photo spits out, slowly but surely, revealing itself.

In the photo Lydia is staring up at him with a knowing look, however a tiny smirk is pulling at her lips. And there he is in all his shining glory, smiling like the cat who ate the canary. 

Richie snorts as his little gremlin headbutts his shoulder. "Awwee, I know ladybug. It doesn't look that bad, now does it?"

Resting her chin on his shoulder, she glares daggers at him. "At least your fingers aren't in frame." He snorts again, eyes twinkling and shrugs.

He quickly snaps another. This time the camera is held 'correctly', and he's kissing her hair. Her eyes are closed, appearing relaxed and happy.

"There, does that balance everything out?" Rolling his eyes playfully, he lays the pictures on the end table between their beds. She nods, sticking her tongue out at him.

"I love you, but it'd be nice to nap a little." A light chuckle bursts from her. Richie kisses her forehead.

"Mind if I explore then?" She asks, taking her camera back, wishing he'd walk around town with her. _Maybe_ show her some of his old haunts.

"Don't go too far, yeah?" Richie nudges her arm. She nods, snagging her satchel, popping her back in the process.

"I'll be back before nightfall, enjoy your nap. And the silence that follows." She groans, stretching her arms as she heads for the door.

"Oooh believe me, _I will."_ He yawns, kicking his shoes off, almost crashing in the middle of doing so.

 _'I love you too old man.'_ She smiles, taking a picture of him.

* * *

Looking at her watch, she has about two hours to kill before sundown. Maybe it'd be a good idea to stick to staying on the same block? At least for now, until her Dad is with her. Oh screw it, surly Lydia will be fine on her own, it's not like Derry is a huge place anyway.

So far, all she can think about is how much Molly would love the retro vibe this place has.

_Molly._

God dammit, Lydia didn't even give her an answer yet. _Fuck!_ She wouldn't wait around for one either. Maybe she would wait for Lydia, _maybe._ _'Lydia Tozier, you are a dunce. PERIOD'_ She screams in her head, kicking a rock into the road.

Three boys zoom by her on the sidewalk, all of them on skateboards. One with short curls waves at her, taking her by surprise. She waves back, giving him a sweet smile. His cheeks turn pink and he whips his head in another direction, the other two snicker. They turn a corner quickly heading out of Lydia's sight.

She finds herself walking through a park, it's about three blocks from from the hotel. The park is strangely quiet, unlike Los Angeles. It's a nice change not being in a huge cluster fuck of a city. Yeah, this is a growing town, but it's small and seems peaceful enough. 

Lydia stops to stare at a statue of Paul Bunyan. It feels like he's staring back at her, with his soulless eyes and those creepy teeth. Against her better judgement, she snaps a picture of him. It doesn't feel right for some reason, like she should crumple the picture up in her hand.

But she dismisses the oddity, staring at the landmark. Then shoves the developing photo in her bag.

When she turns around, two guys are sitting on a bench together engaging in conversation. They are sitting rather close, too close to _just_ be friends. She smiles to herself, wishing Molly was here.

Her necklace weighs down on her chest like a rock in water.

A tree drapes them in soft shadows, the sun is in just the right spot. ' _Golden hour.'_ It's too perfect. Her stomach fills with butterflies.

Without thinking, she takes the shot, excitedly waiting for the photo to develop.

Her mind drifts back to the morning she had with Molly at their park. The girls had the whole park to themselves it seemed like time stopped just for them. It was like that moment was straight out of a movie.

 _'_ _I_ _should've taken a picture of us, but of course I didn't..'_ She can't help feeling a tiny sting of jealously.

"Excuse me! I'm talking to you!" Lydia looks up nearly face to face with a man just shy above her height. He waves an arm in the air, his partner gently pulls his arm back down.

Hissing in his ear. "Adrian, calm down."

Lydia seizes her polaroid to her chest, internally freaking the hell out. "I- I am so sorry-I..uhh.." Which is new for her, because she wasn't expecting his hostility.

Adrian snaps at her again, his tone no different than before. "What so, you just take peoples' picture without asking?" She takes a moment to breathe, getting her thoughts together.

Small town people are totally different from city folk. "I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I'm so sorry. I uh..it's..it's golden hour and the lighting was just right. I couldn't pass it up."

She quickly tacks on after another breath, "Do you want the photo?" Lydia holds it out to him, he takes it. His eyes soften immediately. Then throws an apologetic glance her way.

She caught them at a perfect moment. The men stare lovingly at each other, appearing not to have a single care in the world.

"This is actually..great." He says softly. She toes the pavement with her boot, feeling out of place. "Keep it, as an apology. I don't always think before doing something, kind of a family trait." Giving them a meek smile.

"You aren't from Derry, are you?" The taller asks, glancing over Adrian's shoulder. "Nope, visiting with my Dad. He uhh..he grew up here." He smiles, she follows his line of sight, he's looking at the photo.

"Got any relatives here or something?" Adrian clears his throat, sounding guilty. "No, we usually travel around after school's out. This might be the last one for a while."

Hopefully it won't be. But if she leaves with Molly, it will be their last trip. She has to leave her dad eventually. As terrifying as that sounds, they'll cross that bridge when they get to it.

"You going to collage?" The other man asks, in a soft voice. Lydia shakes her head, shrugging. "Probably should, but I don't know what to go for. Can't decide." She bites back a pout and hides her camera away in her bag.

"Well, I think you have talent there with that camera of yours." Heat engulfs her face and she glances at her boots for a split second. Shifting on her feet, she makes eye contact with both of them again, smiling bright.

"Thank you. I'm Lydia by the way." She leaves out her last name intentionally, which they don't seem to mind.

Adrian extends his hand out to shake hers with a light grin. "Adrian, and this lovely gent is Don." The three beam at each other.

Adrian huffs, biting his lip. "Look, I'm sorry about jumping at you like that. It's just, people aren't very..accepting here." She holds onto her necklace, brows knitting together. "Oh nono, I get it. People suck." Don nods, sighing through his nose.

She checks her watch, cursing under her breath. "Uhm, I'd love to stay and chat more. But it's getting late, told my old man I'd be back before nightfall." She waves goodbye as she turns to leave.

"Hey!" Don gets her attention again. "Be careful kid, the streets aren't safe at night around here."

 _'Isn't any place?'_ Lydia keeps that to herself. Saluting him. "Well noted, thanks for the heads up. Cya around." She gives them a small smile, taking her leave.

They watch her cross the street, almost wanting to follow her to make sure she makes it back to her dad safely. They decide against it, slowly making their way home as well.

* * *

Above her, street lights start flickering to life down the darkening sidewalk. That's the least of her worries. At the park, she didn't notice how fast dark clouds began to crowd the sky. Looks like it's going to rain soon.

 _'This is the last thing I was prepared for, holy shit!'_ A summer breeze tosses her loose strands of black curls everywhere.

Nearing the hotel, she catches a glimpse of..something..from the corner of her eye.

Her skin getting that weird crawling sensation again, like a wave of fire ants are biting every inch of her body. 

Halting in her tracks, she looks across the street. Gripping the strap of her satchel tight enough to make her knuckles turn white, her painted nails dig deep into her palms. Lydia scans the area, cursing at herself for leaving her phone to charge at the hotel.

Her gaze falls on a set of brilliant blue eyes glaring at her from a sewer drain. Lydia glares back at them unrelenting.

 _'They look hungry.'_ Her lovely brain recalls the receptionists teasing glances at her father. Her stomach twists itself into knots longer she gawks at them. _'Okay, note to self. Apologize to dad later.'_

Her cheeks burn bright red from feeling exposed head to toe. Instinctively, she draws closer into herself. Feeling as though the orbs are searching for something inside of her. Usually she doesn't care if someone stares at her, like that skater kid.

Unlike her, the eyes have yet to blink, or break from hers. A chill slowly creeps down her back, forcing a shudder to escape her lips. 

They suddenly flash yellow, piercing through her with menacing amusement. _'What the hell? That can't..that isn't..'_

A car rushes past them. Not a second later, the cat-like orbs are gone nowhere to be seen.

_'Maybe it was a cat? Yeah, fuck that, cats can't change their eye color like that, dingus! Then what the hell was staring at me!?'_

Huffing in frantic anger, she chalks it all up on her imagination playing tricks on her. Maybe it was all in her head? Don's advice is probably getting her worked up for no reason.

Nervously chuckling to herself, she continues her journey back to the hotel. Keeping her guard up for any other stupid shit that might happen, no matter how ridiculous the scenario. 

Fortunately, nothing does.

* * *

The next morning, Richie insists on going to a café down the street for breakfast. Of course it sits around the same place where those creepy ass eyes were staring her down.

Currently, she is trying to burn the image out of her head of her dad shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth without stopping to chew.

"You need to slow down or you'll choke, unless, that's what you want." She pokes at the Belgian waffle smothered in fresh strawberries and whipped cream in front of her. Catching his pointed glance is a small victory in her book.

He swallows, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Who are you, my mother?" He asks in a mocking voice. She grins cockily, still stirring the toppings around making the cream turn a pastel pink.

"Quit playing with your food." He scolds her, just as she finally cuts into her waffle.

She takes a bite, chewing slowly. Not only to savor the taste, but to further annoy her dad. "To some degree, I am." Lydia chuckles.

He rolls his eyes smirking, chewing on a piece of bacon.

"When did you get back?" He points with another piece of bacon, leaning on the table. She quickly swallows, poking around for more strawberries.

"Quarter 'till eight. You were _dead_. I accidentally slammed the door and you didn't budge and inch." Sighing, she shoves more waffle into her mouth.

"Yeah, tell me about it. I woke up around four in the morning to take a leak. Never felt so-"

Lydia interrupts him, by kicking his shin. "Really dad? While we're eating?"

Richie bursts out laughing, with pain in the mix. Good thing the restaurant isn't too packed, the poor girl would die of shock if anyone else is listening to them. "I'm not sorry, in fact, you're welcome!" She glares at anything but him, face turning red.

His smile dims and he huffs, folding his arms over his chest. Returning to a more fatherly figure. _'Oh boy, what is it now?'_ She knows that look of disappointment.

"You didn't have your phone with you." Lydia leans back in the booth, eyes trailing over the worry wrinkles on his face. "Yeah...I know, it slipped my mind. The damn thing was dead anyway. Look - before you say anything,"

She leans forward, keeping her voice low and steady. "I'm fine, I'm here. It's not like I got lost or kidnapped. I have it on me now, in my joey pouch, _FYI._ " She pulls the device halfway out of her pocket.

"Lydia-" He frowns, when she interjects him.

"I'm sorry, It's just..I'm not a kid anymore-" She breaks his heavy stare, looking out the huge window, trailing off with that thought. She watches people walk the streets, her sight slowly drifts to the same drain from last night. A shiver slides up her spine thinking about those color changing eyes. Almost like something is caressing her back with sharp needles. 

Richie clears his throat, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Taking notice of her shifting discomfort. "I know.." Hearing his soft tone, Lydia sends him a 'please don't be mad at me' glance.

"I know, sunshine. You gonna finish that?" She tries to play it cool, throwing her head back beaming. "Smooth dad, smooth.." And shoves the half eaten waffle his way, having lost her appetite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do ya think so far? Happy reading, and stay safe! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo uhh I didn't think this chapter would be this chunky! Lol Sorry for the long wait, hope it was worth it. <3  
> 

Derry hasn't changed much since Richie and his parents left. Although, He doesn't recall there ever being a fancy Chinese restaurant or that bar down the street. However some shops from his childhood are sitting where they always been.

Then he spots it across the busy road. It leaves a bittersweet pang in his chest to see that the arcade closed down. But that was inevitable in itself, nothing lasts forever, good or bad.

The glass doors are shattered, just like the memories that place holds, or rather _..held._ Richie can barely remember the last summer he spent in that arcade with his group of friends back then.

Even after so many years, the shame he felt that day Bowers humiliated him resurfaces. No matter what Richie does, the sting is still there in his eyes and the pit of his stomach. Sticking a knitting needle through every nerve. All he wanted to do was play another harmless round of Street Fighter. 

He bites the inside of his cheek, willing his fucking headache to go away. Richie wants to squeeze his eyeballs out of his head, even if that makes him go blind. A part of him wishes they would pack everything back up and head home already. On the other hand, one glimpse at Lydia slays the thought altogether.

Her dark eyes glimmer in the sunlight like molasses. She chews her lip, trying to hide her glee. But he can see straight through it. Lydia has always been bad at hiding her emotions, that is if one knows her well enough. Loose curls sway in time with her steps, as does her long curly ponytail. There is an air of confidence around her that almost mocks him. _Almost._

Where the hell did she get it from? Surely not from him. Hell, he doesn't feel comfortable in his own skin. Lydia always had that confidence in her stride with anything she did. At least to him. Has Lydia really grown into this beautiful, fearless, strong young woman walking next to him? How did she turn out this way? How did he manage to raise her on his own?

Her black hole-like orbs snap to his, startling him. She beams at him, while she adjusts a strap of her overalls. Appearing to have either brushed off his staring, or has just noticed it. Regardless, he returns a meek grin, then turns his attention to the sky. Immediately regretting his decision, blinking the sun out of existence. _'Why do my eyes have to be so fucking sensitive?'_

"Sooo I was thinking," He starts, but is quickly intervened. "Oh no, you're using more than three brain cells! Should I be worried?" Smugness pulls at Lydia's lips, it derails his train of thought.

"-Oh- Wha..- shut up, you little turd!" Barking out a deep laugh, she slaps a hand to her mouth. Trying and failing miserably to hide her smile. "Why is _'turd'_ funnier than shit?!"

Richie chuckles, ignoring her rarity of swearing in front of him, shrugging. "I dunno, baby language is better sometimes. Depends on the subject matter I guess."

Nodding, she makes a noise of understanding. Messing with the old grasshopper pin on her satchel. "Ahhh, makes sense with your line of work." She pats his arm in sympathy. Richie side eyes the little devil, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.

"Watch it, kangaroo jack. I'll kick back sooner or later." He states. Lydia mimics him, rolling her shoulders a few times.

 _'Will these damn overalls ever fit properly?'_ She groans inwardly. "It'll be much later, I'll be fine." The girl waves nonchalantly, smug as ever.

For once he doesn't have anything smart to quip back at her. _'What the hell is wrong with me?'_

"You're awfully quiet. Have I finally beat you?!" Shock envelopes her freckled face.

 _'Quick! say something you dumb-ass!'_ Richie gives her a mischievous grin. "No way, I'm just practicing turning the other cheek." His grin turns into a bright toothy smile under her playful scrutiny. 

Rolling her eyes, Lydia gestures to him. "Okay, but really. What are those three brain cells thinking?" This time, he stares directly at her, deadpanning.

"Consider this payback for being gross at breakfast." She points out, cutting him in half with her glare.

"Whatever bug," Richie huffs, secretly smiling on the inside. Then continues on. "Wanna head over to the fair?"

They come to a standstill at a stoplight, waiting with two other people, a dark skinned man and a little elderly woman.

"Sure. Beats walking around in circles all day." She leans back on the heels of her boots, watching him closely.

"Would we really do that?" He asks, idly tilting his head. Realizing that she is wearing a band-Tee he gave her weeks ago on her birthday.

"Dad, c'mon I _know_ you. You'd be suck in 1985 like Debbie, if I wasn't around." She regards more to his clothing choices than anything else.

But who is she to judge? There are days when she looks like a soccer mom ready to take out the manager of a store.

"Oh please, I am _not_ out of touch with time, Lids." He grumbles, an evil grin stretches over her cheeks. _"Riiight.."_

Lydia tries to convince her springy bangs to curl around her ear. But they bounce back into her eyes like nothing happened and she sighs. Richie snorts, shaking his head, watching the whole thing adoringly.

Okay, he can't hold it back any longer. "Bowling for Soup, _really?"_

She leers at him, poking his shoulder roughly. " _Listen,_ it was crap, I know! I'm grasping at straws here, _old man!"_

A broad smile graces his face as he laughs. "I see that."

Neither one of them notice the silent glances the man beside them keeps throwing their way. He is a tall, dark skinned man. Appearing to be around Richie's age, although wrinkles are starting to form under his kind, tired eyes. 

He can see the resemblance clear as day. The wavy mop of dark hair and thick glasses give him away instantly. Richie 'Trashmouth' Tozier is back in Derry! The girl next to him has the same dark hair, cherry button nose, big teeth and long lanky arms and legs. This shocks him to the core.

 _'Richie has a daughter? Holy hell is he married? Divorced?_ _Somehow I find either hard to believe.'_ The man jumps to his last string, going out on a limb. "Richie Tozier?"

The father daughter duo lock eyes with him, their smiles slowly fade. Richie squints at the man, feeling like he should already know his name. But of all the names that nag at him the loudest is Eddie, he knows that one isn't right.

None of the other five names that come to Richie doesn't suit the man in front of him. Except for Mike. Yeah, this guy looks like a Mike. However, he can't be too sure.

"Hey, uuhh..have we...met before?" Richie shuffles anxiously on the balls of his feet, trying to relax his nerves.

"I'm Mike, Mike Hanlon." A breath of fresh air jolts his lungs, he can see it now. _'Welcome to the Losers club Homeschool!'_

Mike was the farm boy that lived outside of Derry. The infamous 'rock war' floods back to him. The _Losers_ had won against Henry Bowers and his gang, in favor of defending Mike. _'Losers stick together.'_

"Mike- oh shit-" Richie stammers, smiling at him and clasps his shoulder. "It's been..God knows how long." A childlike wonder blooms in his chest, taking him back to better times he had in this shitty town.

Richie and Mike ignore the walk light when it turns green, both wanting to catch up. Lydia notices the change, however is not going to leave her father behind. Also curious about this Mike Hanlon fellow and how the hell her father has forgotten his friend. Something else he's never mentioned. It's not like her dad didn't have friends back home. He did, but they don't feel genuine.

Yet, cars are still whizzing by them. Seeming to be ignoring the stoplights altogether.

The frail, ancient looking woman with wiry tufts of white hair hobbles into the busy road, paying no mind to the oncoming traffic.

Cars still zip by not slowing down for the lady.

Petrified, terror coils itself around Lydia's legs rendering them useless. Her feet stay rooted next to her dad. No matter how hard Lydia tries, her feet won't budge from the cement. Voice stuck somewhere between her choked breath and already pacing heartbeat. It's like an invisible vice grip is squeezing her throat shut.

Sweat beads over Lydia's forehead, she latches her clammy hands around her satchel. Feeling like a vegetable, Lydia can only watch in stomach twisting horror as a Plymouth Fury whips past the old lady, barely missing her. The wind sends her wispy hair and dress to curl around her frail body.

 _'Dad! Dad what the fuck?! Don't you see this fucking lunatic of a woman? DAD!!'_ Lydia's eyes start to burn, she is too scared to take her eyes off the lady for one second, let alone breathe or blink.

A truck soars by, nearly clipping the heel of her shoe, the gust of wind causes the woman's dress to flap the opposite direction. Her stomach drops again, as another car speeds up the road. Lydia can finally take a much needed breath when the ancient lady steps onto the other side of the crosswalk, just in time for the car to pass her.

The frail woman pivots, Lydia's heart stops. She can faintly hear bones cracking over the speeding cars as the woman cranes her neck in Lydia's direction. It isn't the uncanny, wide smile she gives Lydia that freaks the teen out. Across the way, she can see the woman's vibrant, chilling, crystal blue eyes. Feeling them spear into her soul.

They are enticing Lydia to follow them, challenging her to cross the busy road. Just as she had. The numbing pinch in her legs vanish. Lydia frowns, clenching her teeth together. She stays put, gripping her bag tighter, practicality glaring at the woman now. Her insides squirm uneasily from the woman's gaze.

Within the blink of an eye, the lady's crystal blues flash to an unnatural golden orange. It's like a sucker punch to Lydia's gut, taking what little air from her lungs, just like the soul piercing gaze from the night before. 

_'What the fuck.'_ The woman raises a bony, withering hand and waves her index finger disapprovingly at her, cocking her head with a knowing glance. Like she could read Lydia's mind, and is scolding her for swearing.

Lydia glances to her dad and Mike for a split second, seeing them hug. Then throws her sight back across the street to - nothing.

Absolutely nothing. Not a single soul is standing over there. On their side of the road it's just the three of them. Lydia swears that the old lady was standing right next to Mike when she and her father strolled up. She notices the walk light is red again. _'What the fuck is going on here?'_

What if she did attempt to cross the road? Jesus christ, she would've..Lydia shoves that thought off it's rails. Taking a few deep breaths, she tries not to physically freak the fuck out, mostly for her dad's sake.

"Good seein' you Rich!" Not long after they separate, and smile.

"Yeah you too- uh oh, this is-" Richie nudges his elbow towards Lydia, her attention quickly focuses to Mike.

 _'Breathe, act natural. Everything is **fine**.' _Her insides feel like someone took a hand mixer to them. _'Breathe.'_

Richie's grin dims a little, picking up on her nervous energy. "This is my daughter, Lydia." She greets Mike with a sweet smile, holding out her hand. "Nice to meet you." She does her best to not sound like a dying cat.

Mike shakes her hand, surprised from every angle. Returning a nod, his smile never faltering. Mike glances between the two, really wanting to catch up some more with Richie. But he feels he has wasted too much of their time already. Even if he makes small talk with them, crossing the street. (How's life been treating both of you, are you going to collage, what is it like being a stand up comedian? ect..)

Mike struggles to say goodbye, as he always has. "We're gonna be hanging around here for a few more days. So I'm fairly sure we'll run into each other again. And uh..Mike, don't be afraid to throw me a line if ya need me." Mike nods again.

"Yeah, I will." He turns to start walking, but Richie pulls him back, taking the other man by surprise.

"Ahh hell, why not come to the fair with us?" Richie has a feeling he won't, but that doesn't mean he _shouldn't_ ask.

Mike pauses a second, thinking about the work he needs to finish up at the library and frowns. "Thanks, but no thanks, I gotta get back to the Library -"

Richie groans rolling his eyes. "The Library- God between you and Haystack, I donno who is nerdier. C'mon, it's summer.." _'We're kids'_ almost slips out of his mouth. He blinks a few times, stomach turning at the thought.

"Maybe later?" Mike jitters, flashing a nervous smile. Rich nods, halfheartedly waving when Mike does, and off the man goes on his own.

Richie gazes down at his daughter, she looks up at him. "He seems nice. A little socially awkward, but who isn't?" A tiny grin pulls at her lips, he huffs returning a half smile. "Yeah especially seeing this face after so long. I don't blame him." Richie points to himself chuckling. Deciding it'd be better to ask her what freaked her out later.

* * *

The two walk in a comfortable silence side by side, listening to the bustling sounds of the city. Ones that easily settle their rattling anxiety. Until Richie can't take it anymore. "You really dunno know what you wanna do?" Shaken by the sudden question, she sucks in a sharp breath.

"I know what I wanna do.." He quirks an eyebrow at her. "So what's keeping you from doing it? Besides this trip." She shrugs, scratching her arm.

"Lots of things.." She trails off, obviously not wanting to talk about them. She knows he's trying to help, albeit, in the most annoying and only way he knows how. 

"Like?" He prods. Lydia stays quiet, staring at her lilac colored fingernails.

Embarrassment and fright sting her throat, making it hard for her to breathe. "If you can't name them-" He cuts himself off, seeing how upset she is.

She can feel his gaze prying at her face, but she doesn't make eye contact with him. More interested in picking at the skin around her fingernails. "They all involve leaving you- And I..I'm terrified of that." He'll try his usual picking route, see where that takes this dilemma.

" _Oh puh-lease,_ last night you were walking out here by yourself-" She snaps at him. "That's not what I mean Dad." Richie flinches, not expecting her to flip a lid. She turns to look at him, still not willing to look him in the eye. Immediately feeling terrible for biting his head off. "I'm sorry.." She blurts. 

He stays silent, waiting for her to keep talking. He should've known better to keep his mouth shut in the first place. Richie nods, a bubble of guilt rises in his chest. Lydia breathes in the musky air of the street, hugging herself. "I mean like being on my own, or..or with someone else that _isn't_..you." She digs her nails into her arms to keep herself from tearing up.

They come to a stop again at another crosswalk. Great now he feels like a monumental shit bag. "C'mer, Lids." He tugs her into a warm, comforting hug. It's one of the ones that chase all the horrible feelings away. 

"Don't let _me_ hold you back from the stuff you wanna do with _your_ life, alright? I'm a grown man, I can take care of myself. Just..make good choices." He kisses her forehead before pulling away, squeezing her shoulders lovingly. The faint rosy smell of her shampoo gets stuck in his nose.

The guilty bubble in his chest bursts when she finally meets his gaze, sniffling. "Unlike you?" she jokes, cracking a tiny smile.

 _'There she is.'_ Richie gives her a playful glare. He curls a few of her bangs behind an ear, equally as unsuccessful keeping them in place. "Hey now, we're getting into rocky territory." The light turns green and they start walking again. The makeshift gates of the town fair greeting them across the way.

* * *

As tradition, the first thing they do is scout around for funnel cake. It didn't take too long to find the stand. Unfortunately the damn thing is sitting off to the side from a fun house that is shaped like a clown's head. Richie is standing with his back facing the fun house, a sour glare holds his face. Doing his best to not turn around, waiting for their order.

What makes it worse is that he can hear the creepy carnival music. His demon spawn isn't making it any better either. Lydia tries not to make a face at him, but loses her cool when he glances at her. She digs in her bag, pulling out her Polaroid snapping a picture of the 'torture' house as what her dad calls it. Admiring the older style the artist went for with the structure.

"You're sucha brat." He spits out in a lighthearted manner. She stifles her giggles by biting her lip. And slips the developing photo and camera back in her bag. "Good to know my misery lightens your mood." Richie says, pursing his lips, pointedly staring at her.

"Wait, no! I-" Her nervous laughter says it all. 

The man scoffs, betrayal littering his face. "No? Then what the hell are you laughing at?" A wide, toothy grin splays over her cheeks. Richie folds his arms around himself, giving her his best stink eye.

"I'm sorry!" She squeaks. He raises his eyebrows in disbelief. "Ya'know what? No funnel cake for you then, it's all mine baby!" He goes to retrieve the fried sugary treat when it's ready. And holds it high out of Lydia's reaching hands, his satisfied smirk mocks her.

Lydia shakes her head, giving up on trying to snatch the plate. "Okaaayy dad. First my breakfast, now the other half of _OUR_ snack? Screw you!" She sticks out her tongue. "The tables have turned!" He snickers, sticking out his tongue, in return. 

They find an old empty picnic table, sitting across one another. Richie sits the food between them, smiling like a bond mastermind. "Who pushed their plate away?" His smile grows ear to ear at her silent death glare.

"Exactly." He says. Rolling her eyes she huffs playfully, ripping a piece of the fried dough and pops it in her mouth. The sweet taste of powdered sugar invades her senses. Oh the blissful joy junk food brings!

Not too far from them. Lydia spots a tall, lean, ginger haired man in a black suit. He's handing one of his countless red balloons to a little boy wearing a yellow raincoat, jeans and green galoshes. She fails to notice the child is missing one of his arms.

The balloon is about the same size as him! She can barely hear the kid say 'thank you mister' in a peppy manner. The boy runs past their table giggling happily, quickly getting lost in the crowd. She misses his pale, maggot infested skin, dead eyes and once again, his missing arm.

Richie stills, seeing a red balloon bobbing through the mess of people. Catching glimpses of a little boy in a yellow raincoat with the balloon. Not enjoying the flips and twists his guts are doing. Why is that setting off alarm bells through his body? Why the _fuck_ can't he remember what that harmless balloon the kid has is triggering? It's just out of his grasp, pissing him off and setting his nerves ablaze.

Not realizing she is staring at the ginger, he locks eyes with Lydia. Smirking his plump lips and winks at her. She struggles to breathe, like a fish out of water. She forces her gaze down to the now half eaten plate, blushing furiously. Nervously chewing on another piece to distract herself. What the hell is it with her and red-heads? She digs her nails into her pant legs, a little put off by the subtle flirting.

It's not like he's bad looking either, in fact she thinks he is quite handsome. Sporting a rectangular shaped face with high cheek bones and a strong jawline, a small bulb-like nose and plump lips. However, it's the fact that Lydia is in love with her best friend. Not that she'd admit it out loud in front of her father. He doesn't even know that she _IS_ a lesbian. 

Right now she really wants to smash her head against the table for staring at him too long. She wouldn't let that happen, not in front of her dad. He'd _never_ let her live that down. Then he'd pass the event on to Molly. _'She'd have a fucking field day with it too.'_ The pestering would never end, and that shit'll get old quick.

"Would either of you fancy a balloon?" Both Richie and Lydia jump at the sudden presence of the towering ginger. An innocent smile pulls at his lips, his cerulean blues drift between them in amusement.

How the hell did he sneak over to them unnoticed? Lydia didn't even see him walking over in her peripherals, let alone hear him. So what the hell? The wind lightly blows the balloons towards her, almost like they're reaching out for her. She glares at him through a balloon, his appearance seems to morph in front of her. Like the balloon is a red warped window showing her his _real_ face.

She sits still, taking quick, shallow breaths. His skin is canvas white all except for his nose and mouth, which are painted scarlet red. Her sight trails up the red of his lipstick curving up the apples of his cheeks stopping just above his eyebrows. She freezes stiff, being caught yet again staring at him. It's like he _knows_ she can see him, _the real him._

Her breath catches watching his cheery blue eyes bleed into a deep, angry yellow-orange. His hooded gaze scratches at her resolve, making her feel as if she is a small helpless kid again. A nasty buck toothed sneer darkens his face, before the wind shoots the balloons behind him. 

His orange eyes, white and red makeup wipe away. Back to plain pinkish skin and blue, _too blue_ orbs. His sultry expression sets an unwelcoming fire to blaze across her skin from head to toe. 

"No! Uh..no thanks." Richie is the first to state, clearing his throat, heart nearly giving out. The way the man's eyes linger a bit too long on his daughter spikes Richie's anger, adding to his ramping fright.

 _'How old is this creep anyway?'_ He white knuckles the table so hard he can feel the old wood scraping into his palm. His eyes start to burn up like smoke is attacking them while he looks at the man.

"You sure? I have plenty to go around." His grin makes Richie's skin blister. Forcing himself to bite the inside of his cheek until he tastes pennies.

"No thank you." She breathes, grimacing, still clutching her chest and belly. The man frowns jutting out his bottom lip some, almost pouting. Sliding his amused orbs back to Richie like shiny marbles.

"Oh well, it's your loss!" He hums, a smug glare filling his eyes as he shuffles away in an awkward stroll. Probably looking for someone else to jump scare.

Richie releases his boa like hold from the table, a sigh of relief exits his body. "You alright?" He checks Lydia over, she bobs her head all doe-eyed.

"You?" She asks. All he can muster is a tight lipped smile and a light. "Yeah."

They shake off the oddity, Richie pushes the plate towards her. Taking comfort that Lydia is willing to finish off the food. Hell she looks like she doesn't eat enough as it is. Even though that is millions of miles from the truth. That girl can burn through three plates worth of spaghetti and still have room to spare for dessert.

She keeps glancing to something on his right. If he remembers correctly the Tilt-a-Whirl is sitting that way. He really hopes it isn't the creep with the balloons. "What are you-" Curiosity taps on his shoulder, pulling him to look- "Don't move." Lydia says in a hasty, yet calm manner, which makes him focus back to her. He fails at hiding his delight, knowing exactly what is going on. 

"Ahh okay. The jig is up, I've been spotted?" He laces his fingers together in front of himself, leaning on the table. She wipes her mouth with a napkin, dropping it on the empty plate. Her dark eyes flash to his. "I think so."

Richie snorts taking a short breath and braces himself, watching her carefully. "She hot?"

Lydia's eyes budge, mouth agape. Looking like she was caught smearing peanut-butter on the walls all those years ago. "Oh my _god_ ," She slaps her forehead, face turning red. Richie loses his shit, curling into his hands nearly on the verge of tears from laughing so hard. "What?" He coos straightening back up, she can barely contain her nervous laughter.

She fights with herself to stay calm, but it's only getting harder to keep everything in. "It's a kid, dad." She mutters between her palms. Richie just gives her a look, completely disregarding what he said earlier and flips the subject back at her.

"You sure he isn't lookin' at _you?"_ Her hands slowly drop from her face, crossing her arms on the table casually. Her eyebrows fly up and crash back down as she crinkles her nose in disgust.

"Oh c'mon, don't gimme that face. You're pretty." He states. Lydia rolls her eyes into the back of her head, setting her sarcasm loose.

"Wow gee thanks _dad_ , that definitely means a lot _coming_ _from_ _you_. Aren't you a _famous comedian_ or something?" He touches his chest like he's been hurt. "Ooo ladybug that stings. Don't talk down on yourself like that." Fatherly concern takes hold of him. _'Who hurt you?'_

Lydia sighs, rolling her eyes again slouching into a palm. He does the same, not meaning to mimic her so he sits back up. "But seriously, let's be real here. Why would a kid be staring over here?" He gestures towards her. And she tilts her head in the kid's supposed direction, a big smile graces her face.

Biting the bullet, Richie finally looks over. Seeing a kid that has to be at least twelve with sandy blond hair, wearing a reddish-purplish tie dye shirt, denim jacket and ripped jeans watching them. An open bag of pink and blue cotton candy in one of his hands. Richie waves at him, shocking the poor boy. Then glances back at his daughter, an _'I told you so.'_ glimmer in her eyes.

"Shut up." He whisper yells back.

It's the same skater kid that waved at Lydia the other night, this time it seems nobody is around to embarrass him. The kid waves back, excitedly power walking to them. Obviously afraid of getting too close, he stands just shy of the table. Adoration and excitement radiates off him.

"Do you wanna picture?" Richie grins, beckoning him to come closer.

The boy wastes no time taking a few more steps, patiently waiting beside his idol. "Yes!" He digs in his jacket pocket pulling out his phone, excitement jolting through him.

A light bulb switches on in Lydia's brain, quickly retrieving her camera. "Hey wait! I have a better idea." Richie chuckles, keeping a snarky comment to himself. Lydia scurries around the table, Polaroid in her hand. A hint of shy confusion paints the boys face, watching her. "This'll make it a lil' more personal." She grins.

Richie twists around on the bench, locking eyes with the kid. "She doesn't do this often," He whispers leaning a smidge closer "I think you're a special case here man." He says, winking at him, patting the bench beside himself. A light blush dusts the skaters face, his gaze following Lydia's movements.

Lydia ignores her dad, pretending she didn't hear a thing. And steps back a couple feet, getting both of them in frame. Her heart warms, seeing the kid's beaming features through her camera. This must be the best day of his life, for now at least. She doesn't even have to say 'smile', hell even she can't keep from doing so.

With a jump in her step, she lays the now blossoming photo on the picnic table. Searching for a pen, she shuffles through her bag. _'That one writes in purple I think it's dead anyway and this one..oh man. Does this one still work?'_

"This is all I could find in my bag." She hesitantly glances over pulling out an ancient rainbow pen she sparingly uses.

To her surprise, Richie's eyes widen taking it from her. "You still have this thing?" She nods, sharing a mutual gaze with her dad. He turns to the skater boy, turning the pen so he can see all the colors it holds. "So what color?" He immediately answers. "Purple."

Rich clicks the color in place. Eyeing the kid, grinning to himself. "Okay, who am I making this out to?" The dirty blond fidgets with his cotton candy bag, peering over at Lydia in wonder.

"Dean." Richie jots down one of his lines, attempting to make his signature not so choppy for this kid. 

He goes to hand the photo to Dean, realizing this kid's admiring his daughter. Again he holds in his giddy laughter, there is no way in hell he won't be able to stay quiet about it after this is over. 

"Uhm..can you sign it too?" Dean asks Lydia softly.

Both Toziers share a look of amusement. That throws her for a loop, she stammers out. "..Uhh sure, yeah." And takes her pen back, writing her name in a corner in loopy cursive hand writing. Marking her I's with little hearts, doodling a peace sign next to her name. 

She hands it to him, with a big smile on her face. The sheer joy expelling from him says it all, he's practically shaking off the bench. "Thank you!" His doe-like pale blues jolt between them.

"Hey, it's nothing! It was nice meeting you, man." Her dad exclaims, as she puts her things away. Dean thanks them again before racing off towards the bumper cars.

The stupid cheshire grin on her dad's face makes her want to slap it right off. "What are you smiling at?" She asks, clicking her tongue in annoyance. 

Locking his fingers together, he looks her dead in the eye. Even before he says anything Lydia already knows what is going to come out of his stupid mouth. "Someone has a crush on you~!" He picks in a sing-song voice.

"Shut up!" She smacks his arm with the plate, making him chuckle.

They spend most of the day riding almost all the rides and playing a few games. Neither one of them win anything, Richie swears that most of the games are rigged to shit. Which leads Lydia to somehow convince her dad to go through the fun house with her, mainly to distract him from his ranting and raving. 

* * *

Mike never shown up, not that Richie expected him to. He has always avoided being in the town for too long and he can't blame Mike for that. So maybe that's the reason why Richie even brought his daughter to the barrens, to get away from the itching feeling of constantly being watched by unseen eyes. 

The look on her face is priceless when he says it's on the other side of town. He knows she doesn't mind walking. Hell she hikes with Molly and her other friends whenever they have the time. He always figured they were off smoking weed or doing other stupid things teenagers do. Can't say he hasn't tried it before.

If only he had his old bike and friends to accompany the journey. Although his brain reminds him that he's not alone, Lydia is walking right beside him. Enjoying the tranquil bird calls and insects buzzing all around them. 

It's almost the exact same as he remembers. The Kenduskeag stream babbles on as it always has, trees and plants still surround the area. High trees sway to and fro in the singing breeze, blocking out the late afternoon rays of the sun.

"That's poison ivy, that's poison ivy and that's poison ivy.." Lydia points out three different spots close to them, trying to warn her dad not to stumble into the itchy plants. Which is where he ends up stepping anyway.

He throws a sour gaze at her. "Wha- what? Not every goddamn plant is poison ivy-" _'Stanley..'_ Richie looks at her in bewilderment, having long lost memories play back in his head. _' "I- I'm starting to get itchy now-" "Do you use the same bathroom as your mother?" "Sometimes, yeah." "Then you probably have crabs." "That is so not funny." '_

Her brows knit together at his staring into space. "Everything okay Dad?"

Lydia's soft voice brings him back. "Yeah, yeah I'm good. Wave of déjà vu just came over me." He squints, fixing his glasses. "Uhh, hate to break it to ya old man but..you're standing in-" She laughs, watching him haphazardly scramble from the forest edge, flailing dangerously close to the riverside.

"Sweet Jesus!" Lydia breathes, squatting near a boulder. "I don't think I've seen you move faster in my life." She jokes, miss placing his panic.

He catches his breath, glancing down at her then back to the tree line. It felt like someone was right behind him, breathing down his neck. His sense of security blows away in the wind. Why the hell is he so on edge? _'Fuck that asshole with the fucking balloons..'_

Richie eyes a stick picking it up, trying to play off his unease. "What's brown and sticky?"

Lydia huffs taking a minute to make sure that's really what came out of her Dad's mouth. Dreading the answer, she asks anyway. "Oh god, what?" 

"A stick." He smiles, teeth and all, holding in his childish snicker. Swinging the stick in his hand to further the horrible joke.

She groans face palming, hiding a smile. And stands back up to her full height, only to lean on the rock behind her. "You're so stupid, oh my god."

Richie chuckles, tossing the stick into the woods, wiping his hand on his pants.

Watching for sudden movements between the trees, hearing nothing but birds, bugs and gentle sloshing of water.

Sloshing?

He twists around coming face to face with the very entity that still plagues his nightmares.

Its height still towers over Richie, face just as white as he remembers, nose and mouth the same cherry red. Wild ginger hair all spiked up, like the flames of a fire. His clothing appearing more of a dirty grey than white, the three red poufs that run down its chest stick out like a sore thumb.

Richie leaps back snapping his head towards Lydia, who is transfixed on a photo she took and is standing too close to the river for his liking.

He goes to bolt in front of her, but a gloved hand lifts him in the air effortlessly by his neck.

"Lyd-!" Thick fingers squeeze his throat, cutting off his airways. Icy daggers of fear slash up and down his back glaring into the creatures striking yellow orbs. A sick, animalistic grin tears its jaws open revealing rows upon rows of jagged sharp teeth.

"Hiya Richie! Did'ya miss me?!" The clown cackles, revealing in Richie's ramping fright. Drool splatters against his cheek. All Richie can think to do is curl his hands around the wrist of the beast.

"D - DAD!" Lydia drops her camera and photo, shifting through her satchel for her pocket knife, pepper spray -anything! Nerves rattling like crazy, heartbeat pulsing in her ears. A cold film of sweat runs down her spine chilling her muscles one by one. 

Pennywise pulls Richie closer taunting the man with another one of his fears. "What a lovely daughter you have there. Be a shame if your _'Little Ray of Sunshine'_ goes _missing!"_ Richie thrashes about trying to lodge himself free, only for the clown to mock his attempt with a shrill giggle.

"Eat mace, asshole!" Lydia grabs the clowns attention, spraying directly at the creatures' eyes. 

Pennywise shrikes in hot flaming pain, throwing Richie. Sending him smashing into a tree. He lands in a heap in the grass, hacking and coughing. Taking in deep ragged breaths, grimacing but forcing himself to scream. "Lyd-Lydia! Run-" But his voice barely carries from his lips, the edges of his vision turning hazy and black. 

The last thing he sees is Lydia slamming her satchel into the clowns advancing figure. 

The second his lethal bloody red irises pierce into her soul, she swings her bag above her head. Hoping to stop him from coming any closer to her. He grabs the bag, hardly acknowledging the thing hitting him. Ripping it from her hands and tossing it aside in the weeds.

He lunges at her, snatching her up into a bear hug. His long arms spindling around her much smaller frame. The bells of his suit jingle as she struggles in his clutches, the smell of cotton candy, bubblegum, and mold clog her nose.

Lydia kicks and screams, twisting around as much as she can. "Dad! Da- Daddy!" 

The clown peers down at her, a low growl rumbles through his chest, absolutely loving the sweet fear rolling off her skin. Ohhh he'll take his time with this one for sure. He drools just thinking about the ways he'll toy with her. Breaking her will to live, make her beg for a quick death. But oh no no no no, he won't show mercy on her. When she does beg, he'll prolong her suffering.

He squishes her tightly to his chest, just enough to prevent her from breathing, soon enough the girl stops her kicking and screeching.

The creature hoists her limp body over his shoulder, enjoying the light flowery scent of her hair and skin. Making his way to the opening of his sewer, a sinister grin pulls at his cheeks.

"The fun's just beginning." His malicious laughter bounces off the pipes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be the last wholesome chapter for now. Maybe, we'll see how dark it gets first.. :c  
> Thoughts?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok just a heads up! This chapter does have some pretty graphic shit in it.  
> Not gonna lie, this is my first real attempt at writing horror, so I apologize if it sucks ass. Nonetheless I had a blast writing this chapter and breathing life into this little idea that was just a shower thought at the beginning. :D
> 
> Also, I don't intend to make this a romance. Pennywise and Lydia's relationship is going to be pretty rough, not gonna lie. Everything that will involve them will most likely be some form of abuse.

**_'You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,'_ **

_He holds his three year old high in the air, almost daring to throw her up and catch her. Instead he spins them both in quick circles til they tumble in the soft sand. Her bubbly laughter is music to his ears, even as cooling waves crash over them. Helping ease away his dizziness._

**_'You make me happy when skies are grey,'_ **

_A light tug on his shirt pulls his attention from his script. Huge brown, doe-like eyes shine up at him. She shows him her latest painting of a grasshopper and ladybugs, heart warming at her bright little smile. Paint smudges her cheek, arms, hands and clothing._

_' **You'll never know dear how much I love you,'**_

_"Every word that falls from my lips is a pearl of perfect wisdom. You'll thank me one day." She doesn't even look up from her homework at the table. "Uh-huh, just like your jokes?" A sly grin snakes across her face at his long pause. "...Shut your mouth.."_

_' **Please don't take my sunshine away.'**_

_"Dad! Da - Daddy!"_

Richie's conscious slowly unfolds itself. His head feels fuzzy, like cotton is being rubbed all around the inside of his skull. He coughs cracking his eyes open, being greeted by a dark night sky. Little blurry white stars twinkle like fireflies between tree branches above him.

_'Fireflies..'_

_'Lydia!'_

Ignoring the awful twinge in his back, Richie scrambles to his feet. Cursing under his breath, fumbling for his phone. "Ly- Lydia?" He calls out softly, grimacing at the gravely pain that blossoms through his throat.

With flashlight mode on, he scans the area around him. His heart steadily picking up in pace, crickets being his only response. The smell of dirt, dew and river water thankfully are the only things filling his senses. He spots Lydia's Polaroid, picking it up, finding the photo not too far from it.

The picture shows a black marble salamander sitting on a rock, staring out at the river. No wonder she was crouching that close to the edge, don't usually see those too often. He slips the photo into one of his pockets, calling for her again. His hands start to shake from the silence, breath coming in short and sporadic. 

"Baby please-" His voice catches, whining, a step off from a panic attack. _'Say something!'_ Richie's whole body coils up as tight as a spring to the point were his muscles ache. He steadies himself against the boulder, trying to slow his breathing down.

Maybe, just maybe Lydia will jump out from the woods laughing at his panic. But that thought dies off quickly. She wouldn't do that to him, she wouldn't purposefully scare him this way. Lydia isn't an asshole.

His flashlight shakily shines over brush and wildflowers around the riverside. Something metal catches the light closer to the bank, he can't really tell what it is until he bends down.

Lydia's camera slips from his hand, his phone shortly follows after. It falls screen down, casting light all around the riverside. Knees quaking under his weight, Richie crumples forward onto them. The sight of an all too familiar purple satchel with a grasshopper pin shoves him off the edge he has desperately been clinging to.

With trembling hands, he brings the bag to his chest. Hot tears burn the back of his eyes, threatening to set fire to his cheeks. 

In that moment, everything hits him like a goddamn mack truck. Earlier events flare in his mind, playing back at breakneck speed. Lydia's unspoken distress, her unusual timidness when that dick with the balloons- 

The clown. That was fucking Pennywise the dancing prick.

 _"What a lovely daughter you have there. Be a shame if your 'Little Ray of Sunshine' goes missing!"_ The clowns gurgling laughter vibrates through his being, chilling Richie to the bone. His grip tightens on Lydia's bag, curling himself inward. 

_'She's gone, she's gone..'_ Sobs wrack his body, a terrible numbing pain saws at his guts. Leaving a gaping hole deep in his chest. "...You had me..I was right there..but you.."

Anger consumes him the more he plays that scene over in his head.

_"Eat mace, asshole!" Lydia grabs the clowns attention, spraying directly at the creatures eyes. Pennywise shrikes in hot flaming pain, throwing Richie, sending him smashing into a tree._

He did nothing, absolutely nothing to fucking help. Her voice invades his thoughts twisting the knife deeper in his heart.

 _"Hey it's not like you weren't here for me when I needed you."_

He grimaces, burying his face into the weathered cloth. "Goddammit! Fuck..FUCK!" Richie wails. Squeezing his arms around Lydia's satchel. All he has of her now are memories, precious years he'll never be able to erase to make the pain go away. 

His heart freezes, shattering all over again. What is he going to tell Lydia's friends? How can he face Molly?

He can picture Molly now. She'd punch and kick the shit out of him, scream bloody murder in his face. _She'd kill him._ And Richie would gladly let the red-head do it. It's the least he deserves for not keeping his own daughter safe. Molly would _never_ forgive him.

Tears sear hot paths down Richie's face like lava. He quickly wipes them away. _'_ _I'm sorry Lydia, I'm so, so sorry..'_

He shakes his head, huffing. Bouncing back and forth between rage and guilt, both emotions rip at his throat for control. Richie takes a shaky breath to calm himself, but it does no good. White flaming anger swells in his chest, filling that massive hole with a taste for revenge.

"I swear..I swear to fucking christ I'm gonna..I'm gonna fucking kill you." Richie spits with abnormal icy venom.

* * *

_Molly appears to be floating across the_ _middle of the Tozier's living room on her tip-toes,_ _ending her routine with a_ _pirouette. Wearing a black leotard with white tights and ballet slippers. Her long ginger hair up in a messy bun. Enamored, Lydia gawks at the ginger. "My god Molly. That was..if I could dance like that, I'd dance with you."_

_Molly stands with her hands high on her hips cocking her head, expression unreadable. "Would you really? It's harder than it looks." Sighing she sits down beside Lydia on the couch, relaxing into a corner._

_"Hell yes I would!" The raven haired teen turns to her, eyes bright with inspiration. Tracing the ginger's face over and over again in her head. Already planning on what to draw next._

_"Least you have the decision to. Jesus I wanna live on my own so bad." She sighs again, tensing when Lydia's fingers intertwine with hers. Both lightly squeezing the others hand. "Few more years Molls, few more years." Lydia smiles softly._

_"They need to hurry the fuck up." The red-head gestures, making Lydia snort._

_"Then what are you gonna do?" Lydia watches the others face twitch in thought. Leaning into Molly's space, while butterflies tumble about in her belly. Molly pulls her closer wrapping her arms snugly around the other teen. Both wanting nothing more than to stay in this moment._

_Molly sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, hesitant to even say anything, but it all flies out. "I'm gonna burn these damn slippers, cut my hair, and dress the way I want to fucking dress. That's what I'm gonna do, I'm tired of putting up this shitty facade of being a perfect little-"_

_Lydia carefully holds the red-head's face in her hands. Worry pulling at her own face. "Hey whoa, calm down! I didn't mean to throw you into a tangent!"_

_Molly gazes down into large honey splattered brown eyes. Heart skipping a beat at the softness they carry and the quick batting of her long lashes. Warmth colors her cheeks, sinking deeper into Lydia's earthy hues. Her chest aches wanting so badly to lean down and just kiss the girl in her arms._

_Ignoring her thoughts she drags her sight to the ceiling, afraid of falling too deep into those beautiful endless depths. "I'm sorry, I just hate this shit with a burning passion."_

_Lydia thumbs her cheeks tenderly. Confusion taking hold of her. "Then why did you agree to dance for me?" She slides her hands down Molly's neck to rest on her shoulders._

_The ginger slips back further into the couch. Pulling Lydia into her lap, so she sits on her thighs. Trailing an arm around Lydia's waist, her scarred arm laying over pale legs. "Cause you won't belittle every little mistake. Like my aunt would."_

_She feels Molly tense again under her fingers. Wishing she knew the best way around this situation. Lydia maps out the ginger's face all over again, eyes lingering on her black-cherry painted lips. Slowly, softly, she peers up into two tired, glassy green forests. Picturing short ginger curls circling in and out of her heart shaped face._

_A dopey grin relaxes the ginger's face, lashes fluttering in amusement. "What are you staring at?" Lydia freezes, smiling wide._

_Those butterflies feel like they are fluttering up her throat. Blushing, she speaks in a hushed tone. "You'd look really pretty with short hair."_

_Molly's eyes widen some, but quickly go back to their normal sly selves. "I'm not pretty now? Ahh. Okay, I see how it is." And rolls her eyes playfully._

_Lydia sucks a panicked breath in. "No wait! That's not-" The ginger throws her head back chuckling out her words._

_"I love you-" Lydia lets the red-head pull her into her warm chest. All the tension in Molly's body is gone. "I love you so much."_

She groans, regretting breathing in even the slightest bit. Her hand flies up covering her mouth and nose from the horrid, stench filling the air.

The smell is similar to rotting roadkill that has been sitting in the hot sun for days and is marinating in urine and feces. Somehow undertones of buttered popcorn and chewing gum is coming through the disgusting plethora as well. 

Lydia really doesn't want to open her eyes. Wishing, wanting to return to the dream she was reliving.

She sits up, curling herself into a ball for warmth, mostly for her bare arms. Keeping her eyes shut tight. She takes in the tiniest breaths she can, so she doesn't puke and make the situation worse than it already is.

Drips echo in multiple areas, close to and far, far from her. Nerves raking on their ends, every hair on her body spikes up with the feeling of being watched. All she can hear around her is the rushing of water, shrieking of rats, and her own breathing.

Shuddering she peels her eyes open, her stomach bottoms out. Both hands cover her mouth, lungs failing to breathe. Every breath she takes burns her throat, tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

A literal mountain of children's toys dwarf her twenty times over. She spots more than five rusting bikes, moldy stuffed animals, dolls and sports equipment. Even kids clothing, litter every nook and cranny Lydia lays her sight on. Countless bodies of children and half eaten limbs circle the tower of toys like a sick representation of clouds floating in the sky.

In the middle of it all, more or less buried in toys, sits an ancient wooden carriage. One side of its wall is knocked down revealing the inside. But Lydia barely cares about that.

Where is _this?_ Guessing from the revolting and dreary surroundings, she's in the sewers? How the fuck did she end up in this..unholy cemetery? 

_'Dad and I were walking down stream beside a forest. Then we got side tracked..'_ Realization slams into her like a brick wall.

The clown! 

It was the same one that tried giving her and her dad balloons. _Wait no,_ it was a man in a black suit handing out red balloons.

Right? 

_"Would either of you fancy a balloon?" Both Richie and Lydia jump at the sudden presence of the towering ginger. An innocent smile pulls at his lips, his cerulean blues drift between them in amusement._

_"No! Uh..no thanks." Richie is the first to state, clearing his throat. "You sure? I have plenty to go around." His sultry gaze makes her stomach flip and causes goosebumps to prickle her skin._

_"No thank you." She breathes, grimacing, still clutching her chest and belly. The man frowns jutting out his bottom lip some, almost pouting. Sliding his amused orbs back to Richie like shiny marbles._

Or was it the clown? 

_She glares at him through a balloon, his appearance seems to morph in front of her. Like the balloon is a red warped window showing her his real face. His skin is canvas white all except for his nose and mouth, which are painted scarlet red. Her sight trails up the red of his lipstick that curve up the apples of his cheeks stopping just above his eyebrows. His hooded gaze scratches at her resolve, making her feel as if she is a small helpless kid again. A nasty buck toothed sneer darkens his face, before the wind shoots the balloons behind him._

But the balloons, they couldn't have _changed_ his appearance. That kind of shit doesn't happen. And to be fair, Lydia has been seeing weird shit happening all over the town. Ever since her walk back to the hotel. _Ever since she saw those cat-like, color changing eyes in the storm drain._

Shock ripples down her spine, forcing her body to tense like ice water is being dumped on her.

The little old lady had the same blue eyes, just like..

Just like the ones in the storm drain. Even the yellow eyes were the same.

Along with the man and his morphed appearance of the clown.

The very same clown that was choking her father.

The same clown that she maced.

His eyes weren't yellow after that..

She recalls they were red. Bloodshot, bulging, ruby red. His sunken, bulging orbs held a silent promise of agony and pain in them.

 _'I have to get outta here.'_ Lydia springs to her feet, frantically throwing her sight around the area looking for a way out. She pulls out her phone for a source of light, nearly blinding herself at the lock screen to turn on the flashlight.

Waving her light around, she should have expected it. With everything else that is sitting here rotting away. A pile of bones that are much smaller than her lay not even four feet from where she is standing. But of course, seeing human remains in real life is way different than seeing them in a movie. She hugs herself whimpering, heart aching, tears spilling over. "Oh my god.."

Her light reveals a vintage stroller, from what she can tell the fabric used to be white, pure and innocent. Dark brown stains splatter the yellow moldy fabric like paint. She can only assume it's dried blood. Blood of a..

She closes her eyes, warm tears slide down her cheeks. Trying her hardest to push the thought away, squeezing her side.

How could someone..why.. 

Why would they..

 _'I gotta get out!'_ Her stomach flips and knots itself into oblivion.

Forcing herself to turn away from the awful sight, she spots multiple openings that could possibly be her saving grace. 

Once again the feeling of invisible eyes watching her blazes across her skin. Ignoring it, she picks a tunnel and books it. Splashing through shitty water, being mindful of where she steps.

"Dad?!" Lydia cries, knowing it's hopeless to think he's here, but she can't help it. She hates being alone. It reminds her just how vulnerable she really is. How helpless she truly feels without someone she trusts and loves.

All of this has to be a nightmare. One fucked up nightmare of her getting lost in a child murderers sewer hideout. 

_'Wake up..'_

The tunnel walls seem like they are closing in around her the farther she goes.

_'Wake up dammit!'_

Coming to a stop, she keels over resting her hands on her knees to catch her breath shaking like a leaf. She digs her nails into the denim trying to ground herself. A sick wave of fright soaks down her spine. Bile rises in the back of her throat, solidifying the reality of this hell.

She can't wake up, because she already woken up. This..the disgusting air, stagnate shitty water, mildewy walls of metal. This is real, the floating bodies, and the belongs of children. It all is very real. 

Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she lets out a shuddering sigh. Brows knitting together in confusion as she watches her light flicker at her feet. She straightens up, whole body trembling. Hearing light splashes and something being dragged through puddles.

A jarring sound echoes behind Lydia. Her toes curl in her boots, recognizing what that sound is. It sounds like a soft, low croaking gurgle. Like someone is drowning in their own blood trying to speak. Holding in a sharp breath, Lydia twists around catching sight of deathly pale limbs crackling and pulling at the murky ground.

Long straight tangles of black hair shift about the woman's head as she snaps her neck to stare up at Lydia with wide unblinking eyes, mouth agape. The rattling gurgle becoming more aggressive the closer she crawls towards the teen.

"Shit shit shit!" Lydia almost drops her phone before she gets the idea to her legs to start running again. They carry her as fast as they can. She takes a right, pulse jack-hammering in her ears. A shrill scream of agony comes from the woman before it distorts into a deeper furious roar. Much like the one from that clown she maced.

She no longer hears the croaking gurgle or cracking bones of her early teenage fear. What replaces it is no better. Heinous cackling vibrates off the walls of the tunnel with splashing stomps thundering up behind her. 

Rats scatter and screech when she dashes through a small troupe of them. Not noticing what they were gathering around and feasting on. Lydia trips over a bloated corpse of a teenage boy a few years younger than herself. She hits the metal floor with a crack, sliding in the muck surrounding the body. Crying out in panic at his eyeless, rat bitten face.

Those foot falls so close, yet far enough away to remind her to get her ass moving. She hastily scrambles to her feet pressing on, ignoring the flaring pain in her knee thanks to adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Another T quickly comes up ahead, this time she takes a left. The clown lets out another joyous tremor, not far behind her. 

The burning in her lungs and aching legs scream for her to stop running but she can't do that. Lydia doesn't know exactly what that demented clown will do to her if he catches her. Probably the same as that boy, snap her neck and leave her dying for the rats to eat her alive. Who knows what will happen?

Something grips the sole of her boot almost making her faceplant again. Children cry out in pain as her boot crashes down into murky water. It happens again with her other boot. Pops, cracks and squelching pull her attention downward.

Glancing down hundreds of little grabby hands rise from a meaty bloody mess trying their hardest to cling to her boots and ankles. Lydia screams kicks and stomps, pulling herself free again and again. Trembling in the process, her mind supplying images of crying children as she continues to run.

She cries in vain, truly terrified at her core. "I'm sorry! I'm s-s-sorry!" 

Soon enough the tiny hands stop their assault, and Lydia picks back up running like hell. When she finally looks up it's too late for her to stop- 

**_THWACK!_**

From the ferocity of slamming into a metal barrier, she falls hard on her ass. Wailing, she shakily takes a second to breathe, holding her throbbing shoulder. Knowing it won't be long before she'll be the next victim of that hellish clown. 

Opening her eyes, the bloody haunting face of Kayako Saeki stares at her through the barrier. Her impossibly dark wide eyes hold a sad vacant glare in them. Lydia whimpers, scooting away and back onto her feet once again. Ready to bolt, but her body collides with something solid. Something she knew wasn't there a minute ago.

Swiveling on her heel, she stumbles away from the towering figure. Impish shiny yellow orbs bore into her, lighting up the clowns terrifying buck toothed grin with a yellow hue. She takes another step back, trying to put as much distance between her and the clown as physically possible.

Fingers snatch her ponytail in a tight grip, and yanks her against the freezing bars. Lydia struggles to tear herself free as a pair of deathly cold hands grab at her, holding her in place. Long feminine fingers stretch across her face, obscuring one of her eyes. An arm cracks and breaks through the thick bars, securing itself over her collarbone, digging a busing sting into her inured shoulder.

Lydia pries at the arm around her. Kayako sinks her nails into the flesh of Lydia's shoulder, slipping her icy fingers from her eye to her throat. Death rattling behind her ear. Lydia's blood turns to ice, seeing no way out of this terrible situation. Getting the message, Lydia lets her arms fall to her sides. Slightly obscuring the figure in front of her in darkness once again. 

The clown leans down, nearly folding himself in half. Even hunched over he is still taller than her. A huge joyful smile stretches his face upwards, appearing childlike. Both of his round, blue eyes are looking in different directions, yet she can feel him looking right at her. "Hiya Lids! Have a nice run?" 

Copious amounts of spit and drool fly from his mouth, emphasizing his childish appearance. A thrilling giggle erupts from him, sending pins and needles scraping across her entire body forcing a shudder from her lips.

"Oh how rude of me! My name is Pennywise the Dancing clown!" He straightens back up, throwing his arms out wide. Light tinkling of bells reach her ears as his arms fly out. She half expected his arms to crack off the metal with how long they are.

She just stares in shock, not sure how to respond. Deep red soaks his ruffle, she can faintly smell the nauseating stench of iron. His grin widens, taking a step towards her, throwing his arms to one side. Quickly taking another step and flailing his arms to the opposite side. Tiny bells jingle from his movements again.

Shrieking with glee, he throws himself at Lydia, banging his huge hands on the bars above her head. The whole display gains him a frightened yelp. Her little face contorts in fright, squeezing her eyes shut. She doesn't even notice Kayako fading away into nothingness.

Pennywise basks in the perfect concoction of pure fear that oozes from every pore in her flesh. His teeth sharpen on instinct, taking slow deep breaths. He has to remind himself of his plans for this puny human. This will be much harder than he originally thought to control himself from tearing her limb from limb.

Lydia hears him swallow thickly, silky gloved fingers clasps her jaw. Cracking her eyes open he greets her with a sickening sweet grin. His croaky sing-song voice throws her off kilter.

"OOohh _daddy dearest_ would be absolutely _thrilled_ to know you're still kicking." He giggles dotting her nose with a finger. He leans in close enough she can practically taste copper in her mouth. The sickly sweet smell of cotton candy, gum, popcorn and blood all roll into one, making her nauseous.

A deep vibrating rumble expels from his chest, reminding her of a lion. The very sound sets off unpleasant chills over her skin as does his hooded gaze.

He huffs, a knowing look filling his captivating hues, as they drift down settling on the poor girl's neck. "It would be so easy." His tongue licks over sharp needlelike teeth, saliva dribbles from plump lips falling onto her overalls.

Chilly fingers graze the side of her sensitive neck tenderly. She frowns, gritting her teeth. His equally cold, large thumb smooths over her cheek. Raising another icy wave of goosebumps to coat her skin.

"Stop!" Lydia shoves at the clown's chest and tries to twist out of his grasp, but it's all in vain. The bastard doesn't even budge an inch, tightening his grip on her jaw with bruising intent. He pushes her head into the bars, a pathetic whine shudders past her lips.

His other silky soft fingers dust down to rest on her shoulder, rubbing little circles into the throbbing muscle. "A nip here would do just fine." He coos in the girl's ear, grin never fading.

Lydia squirms in Pennywise's hold sinking her nails into his wrist. She thrashes her other hand into his chest, which is still grasping onto her phone. "L-l-let go! Ge-get away f-from me!"

His eyes flash yellow, glaring down at her unimpressed. Completely ignoring the tantrum she is throwing. Slowly growing bored and slightly annoyed from the same predictable behaviors humans share.

At first it was a quick buzz, then music fills the pipe way. The brightness of the screen almost blinds her, and lights up the gross surroundings. Starting with a soft drum, a synth soon follows picking up with the drums. "I'd sit alone..."

Lydia stills, eyes wide staring at a picture of her dad smiling at her on the screen. "and watch your light..."

Pennywise raises a brow, curiosity peeking. And rips the device from her hand, gaze flitting between the blinding screen and her brightly lit face. "My only friend through teenage nights..."

Lydia closes her eyes to save herself from being blinded by the flashlight. The clown envelopes his hand over the girl's mouth, preparing to answer the call. "And everything I had to know I heard it-" Excitement jitters through him.

"Lydia! Oh my g- -dia sweetheart, whe- -ou? Are you al-" Richie's erratic voice cuts through. The creature smiles down at her, gaze following fresh paths of tears. Holding in his sick laughter.

"I'm scared..and cold.." Her own sad, broken voice startles her. She hasn't said anything. She physically can't thanks to the clown. His grip tightens every time she attempts to move her head. 

"-by, do yo- -ere you're at?" Lydia wants to scream on the top of her lungs hearing her dad falling for this shit. The smug triumphant glow Pennywise expels shoves her into a helpless corner.

The stupidest idea flits in the back of her mind. She only has one shot at this. She takes in a deep shaky breath, watching and waiting for the right moment. _'To die would be an awfully big adventure..'_

"Dad..help me! I don-" The clown's imitation of her breaks immediately. A frenzied growl rips up his throat ringing and bouncing off the metal walls. Her eardrums nearly pop at the horrible sound.

What is surprising to him is how much her dull teeth _actually_ _hurt._ They sink deep into the flesh between his thumb and index finger. "Let go you little brat!" He seethes, barring sharp teeth. He squeezes his fingers into her cheeks, knowing they will leave deep bruises.

Lydia bites down harder, matching Pennywise's murderous glare. The air around them flares with fiery anger and deep-seated hatred. Black blood oozes and squirts between her teeth, staining not only her mouth but the glove as well. She doesn't notice the odd color of the substance.

His blood coats her tongue, tasting like rotting peaches in vinegar. The very thought of blood soaking her mouth is enough to churn her stomach.

Obsidian claws pierce through the fingertips of his glove, slicing through her delicate skin like soft butter. Flinching in pain, her breath hitches. Another bellowing growl escapes the creature in front of her. Still challenging his daunting, red hues despite the pain.

Lydia can hear her dad on the other end losing his shit, and Mike trying to calm him down, but only for a minor second.

Before Pennywise crushes the device in his hand easily, as if it was made of flimsy paper mache. And smashes it against the wall causing bits to fly everywhere. His claws dig deeper finally pulling a cry from the girl, forcing her to let go of him.

Instantly he clamps her mouth shut, violently gripping her head by her hair. He leans in close enough their noses are barely inches apart. Trailing his boiling gaze to her blood stained lips and back to her hardened stare. 

"Swallow." His voice dark, lethal crimson eyes void of mercy. Coughing, she lifts her hand, flipping him off.

The clown's nose flares in annoyance. Guessing the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. "The one that's fucked here is _you_ , _Sunshine_."

His snarl turns into a darkening grin, speaking slowly. "I am not letting go till' you swallow every last drop of what's in your mouth." Lydia's expression hardly changes. She coughs again, bile slowly crawls up her throat.

"Don't _even_ think about spitting in my face." He calls her out, rolling his eyes. Involuntarily she gulps, too late to stop herself. The clown releases her, letting his arm fall to his side, snickering at her discomfort. 

"What the fuck are you?" Lydia presses her back against the barrier, clutching her chest. She hardly spat those words out, glaring up at the creature. Anger, fright and confusion jumble her thoughts. 

"You are so precious!" He pinches her cheek, and quickly cups her face in his large hand. Merrily caring that she slaps it away. Looking too much like her father with those soft brown eyes. "Fuck off!" She yells. Pennywise laughs at the parallels. 

"All in all dear," He pauses, grinning. "I am the eater of worlds." Once again, he pokes her nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'You Are My Sunshine' belongs to the composers Jimmie Davis and Charles Mitchell.  
> Although in my head I picture Richie singing it in the memory bits. :O 
> 
> 'Radio Ga Ga' belongs to Roger Taylor  
> Sung by Freddie Mercury/Queen
> 
> Holy shit I had too much fun writing this chapter! Maybe it's because Halloween is just around the corner? Ehh I dunno haha! I think angry Richie is my favorite type of Richie for now. Hope ya'll enjoyed that spooky shit, I'll keep it coming but probably not as heavy as this chapter has come out to be. Then again, things can only get worse from here. Haha..  
> Stay safe everyone, and make good decisions! <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, hey! Sorry this took forever. Uhmm I'ma be honest here and please don't get mad! I became addicted to Animal Crossing for literally..like two months now. It's a problem and I need help lol. This chapter isn't as long as the others, again I'm sorry about that! D: I'm doing the best I can between writing, work, and my own life. It can be hard to focus on them all equally at times.  
> The next chapter will be more interesting I promise!  
> Thank you for being so patient!

By the time Richie gets a hold of himself, stars begin to disappear one by one. He hasn't moved from his spot by the riverside. The back of his neck feels gross, hot and incredibly itchy. 

_'Poison ivy..'_ Another tsunami of muddled emotions flow through him. Trying and failing to push _her_ from his thoughts. Is this what the rest of his life is going to be like? Feeling as thin and malleable as a piece of wet paper? Dread fills chest like a heavy anchor.

Pennywise is _alive._ Does Mike know? Is that why he didn't join them going to the fair? But if that was the case, wouldn't have Mike told him It was back? He would have, Richie's sure of it.

Out of nowhere his hand flares up with a splicing pain. Hissing through his teeth, he looks down, a deep scar appears in the middle of his palm. Memories of summer '89 flash past his vision at a blinding rate. His constant migraine finally eases away, giving him some form of relief. It sure as hell doesn't help with..losing..Lydia...

But the upside to this is, he remembers. 

He remembers _everything_. 

Eddie, Bill, Stan, Beverly and Ben. Are they willing to come back? He doubts any of them will return. In a way, he did, even if it was totally unintentional. So maybe everyone else will too. _Maybe._

He bites his lip, heart aching painfully in his chest. Thinking back on the night he and Lydia planned this stupid trip. He closes his eyes and listens to the river, attempting to drown out her voice that keeps playing over and over in his head.

_"Daddy look! A ladybug landed on me!"_

_"Eww.. I can see my brush strokes from a mile away. Oh god, buuurrnn iit!"_

_"Do I look funny in- no wait..no I'll ask grandma instead.."_

Every little thing she's done since day one floods his thoughts, dragging him under the horrendous wave of guilt again. He won't be able to walk through that house without seeing phantoms of _her_ everywhere. He curls his fingers into tight fists, the sting his nails bring hardly registers as pain. 

_'Shoulda been me..It should've been me!'_ Richie trembles, feeling emotionally and physically drained. He really needs a fuckin' cigarette right now or three. 

_"Though nothing, will keep us together...We could steal time, just for one day...We can be heroes, forever and ever...What'd you say?"_

Richie jumps at David Bowie's voice blaring behind him, scaring the absolute piss-shit out of him. Twisting around he twinges in pain reaching for his phone, answering it when he sees that it's Mike calling him. Taking note of the time, and the brightening surroundings.

"Richie?! Rich! I've been tryin' to get ahold of you all night man! Are you okay?" The worry in Mike's voice is a kick to the balls for him. _'_ _Fan-fucking-tastic..'_

Not only did he fuck up at being a father, but also being a friend. The last thing he needs is more guilt to add to his growing shit pile of emotions.

"I-..I'm alive..Mike.." He pauses, staring at the Polaroid laying in the dirt and weeds. Anything and everything revolving around the history of that damn object stabs his heart like a pin cushion.

"It's back-" Bile stings his throat, cutting himself off to swallow the disgusting burn.

"I know It is I-..Richie where are you?" He knows? How long has he known? _'Don't yell, don't..'_ Richie bites his tongue.

"Barrens..The Barrens." He clears his throat hearing Mike inhale sharply and hold his breath. _'...Don't cry..'_

"What the hell are you doin' there!? Come over to my place, we'll talk more when you get here. Bring Lydia with you, it's not safe to be alone." His voice carries more concern than Richie expected. Even over the phone, he can picture Mike's face crinkling in unease. 

He holds the camera in his hand staring at it, breath hitching, dreading what he inevitably has to say. "She- Pen-...She's gone..She's gone Mike.. It-" Richie shudders a gasp through his lips, hating how small and broken he sounds.

"I'll be there.." He quickly tacks on, sniffling. And bites his lip again to keep from making noise, fresh warm tears sneak down his face. Taking no comfort in the awkward, depressing silence that is growing between them.

Birds around him start waking up, beginning their carefree songs. A fish leaps from the water, most likely to chomp on bug. Richie almost misses the tiny red and black spotted beetle sitting on top of the camera next to his thumb. _'_ _If only she could see this..'_ His lips quiver watching the bug take off, closing his eyes.

After what seems like an entirety, Mike finally speaks. "I-I'm so sorry.." Sounding as hollow and depressed as Richie feels right now. He goes quiet again, but not for long.

"Rich...Stay on the phone. I'll-I'll give you directions." All he can muster is a light 'Okay.' Before tucking the camera into the satchel, slinging it over his shoulder.

* * *

Mike lives in a cozy neat house up the street from the Library. It only takes Richie twenty-five minutes to get there from the barrens, thanks to Mike's help that is.

The porch light is on, illuminating the well trimmed yard. Mike is sitting on the steps to his front door when Richie comes up the sidewalk. Richie ends the call and shoves his phone into one of his back pockets.

He takes a final deep drag of his second cigarette then drops it, smudging it out into the pavement. Exhaling grey smoke through his nose, fingers curling around the strap much like _she_ did when _she_ was nervous. _'What the fuck do I say to him?'_

Mike watches him with a heavy heart. Noticing the man's stiff, slumped posture. Lydia's bag hugs tightly around Richie's broad chest and side. From what he can piece together, the clown kidnapped Lydia. How and when is the question, however that's the last thing he'll ask. Richie didn't say much on his way here. So Mike'll continue to leave that subject alone, respecting the other man's privacy.

Mike stretches his tired limbs, standing as Richie silently walks up to him. His eyes are glassy, red, and swollen. Which deeply unnerves him, especially since the other day he was all smiles and full of life.

Now - now he appears half dead, the shine that gave Richie his boldness is dim. So dim that Mike can't help but clasp the man's shoulder, squeezing lightly. Reminding him all to well of Bill when he found that little yellow raincoat all those years ago.

Richie heaves, unable to look the other in the eye, following the man into his home. Entering the small kitchen, and leans on the tiny island that divides the kitchen in half.

"Coffee?" Mike gestures an empty mug in his direction. He nods, taking the steaming cup when it's ready.

Warmth spreads through his whole body from his first sip, was he really that cold? He can't tell either way. It doesn't matter, nothing else matters now. Not even the awful itchiness he's ignoring on his neck, or the throbbing in his back.

He glances at the other man. Richie swears that he had to have aged ten years older since yesterday.

 _'Maybe it's because the poor guy was up all night worried sick about you, you jackass.'_ He frowns at that statement.

 _'Where should I start? What should I do?'_ Mike furrows his brow staring into his own half empty mug, watching the brown liquid swirl in circles just like his raging thoughts. He's gotta say something, anything at this point. The silence is deafeningly awful, considering who he's with.

"I was on my way to the fair, I texted you to see if you were still out there. You never replied.." He starts, frowning.

"I was about to go home, but then I heard yelling. There was a fight, I don't know who started it, I called the cops. That was the best thing I _could_ do.." Don Hagarty's pleading reverberates in his mind. Sending chills that skitter across his skin akin to tiny legs of a spider. He can feel the other man's gaze on him now. "I saw It kill Adrian Mellon,"

He meets Richie's glare, eyes pleading for forgiveness. A dagger of guilt rips at his guts. He can only blame himself for not paying more attention to the monster's cycle. "I didn't know It was back, I swear to you, Rich. I would've told you right then and there If I knew." Richie lowers his softening stare to the floor, chest heaving.

"It's not your fault. _I_ was the one that brought her here against my better judgement. _I'm_ the one to blame," He points to himself, shaking so bad he has to set his coffee down.

"When that bastard clown shown up, I practically served her up ona fucking silver plater! I did _nothing_ to save her! I couldn't even.." His voice catches. "I couldn't save _myself_.." Richie squeezes his eyes shut, biting his cheek.

He squeezes the strap of the bag, eyes turning glassy. "If she wasn't there, I'd be dead. And what thanks does she get for saving my sorry ass?!" Richie flinches away, clenching a fist.

"My daughter is _dead_ because of me! What kind of father does this make me? She never deserved this! I never _deserved_ to be _her_ father.." He sighs in a watery quiet voice, scrunching up into himself.

"You're being too hard on yourself, man." Mike reaches out to him, but is shot down by his guilt filled glower.

"You weren't there Mike! I froze," He takes a shaky breath. "She pepper sprayed It, then the fucker threw me against a goddamn tree and I blacked out."

Mike stares at him. "This is _It_ we're talkin' abo-"

 _"Dad?!"_

Mike whips around, spilling the rest of his lukewarm coffee all over himself. The mug slips from his hand, shattering as it hits the floor.

"Shit!" he hisses.

He and Richie share a frightened look. Both knowing the other heard the voice. An all too familiar voice that taunts Richie's heart.

They snap their heads to the sink in unison, holding their breath. Richie grimaces remembering Bev's story about voices of the missing kids talking to her through the sink, and the bloody mess he thankfully never got to witness.

Although hearing Eddie bitch to him about cleaning up the disgusting sight was annoying, he couldn't help the looming sense of dread surfacing under his skin back then.

That familiar dreadful feeling snakes under his skin. Only this is _his daughter_ , _his_ _baby_ calling for _him_. The worst part of this is, it isn't _her_.

It has to be the clown fucking with them, right? There is no other solution to it, voices can't magically start talking through a drain without a goddamned cause. God his head hurts.

"I can't take this shit.." Richie digs his fingers into his sunken, tired eyes. His glasses clatter onto the counter, making Mike jump again and curse under his breath.

"I'm gonna change real quick.." Rich nods holding in a sigh, squinting at the blurry figure with an apologetic glare.

"I'll clean that up, you go..do your thing." He doesn't waste time shoving his specs back on, grabbing a towel, hearing floorboards creaking farther down the hall. This is the least he can do for Mike. 

Regardless of the circumstances, his brain can't seem to quit bringing up...

..The time she accidently dropped a mug of hot chocolate when she was eight. At the time, the poor thing was more upset about breaking one of his favorite coffee cups. She thought he would've been furious with her for not only breaking a cup, but also wasting milk. Of course he was more worried that she gotten cut or severely burned, thankfully neither happened.

He recalls how big her eyes would get when she cried, which was rare on its own. Richie smiles bitterly reaching for another towel, speaking softly to himself.

"I'm not mad at you."

_'I could never be mad at you.'_

"Accidents happen Sunshine, it's okay.."

_'It's okay, it's okay...it's okay.. **I'm okay**...'_

He can almost hear her crying _"'I'm sorry! I'm s-s-sorry!".'_ in the back of his mind. Not realizing her cries were actually coming from the sink again.

He cleans up the mess just as Mike scuttles into the room wearing a comfortable looking t-shirt. He throws the broken ceramic bits in the garbage, while Mike swipes the towels from him. Rinsing them and wiping over the floor again for good measure. 

"I almost forgot to tell you, I called everyone as soon as I could. They should be showing up tomorrow night, if not, sooner than that." 

Richie jolts with confused amazement, why the hell hadn't he thought about that in the first place? An image of Lydia pulling her phone out of her joey pocket flashes in his head. He completely forgot about that. "I'm sucha fuckin' idiot!" he deadpans. There might be a chance Lydia's alive, that's a chance he is willing to take.

Mike does a double take giving the other man a quizzical look, watching him scroll down his contacts. Finally understanding the hopeful shine slowly taking over Richie.

The dial up tone grates at their nerves, ringing twice...a third time...

Every second slows down with the drowning tone, both men hold their breath when someone finally picks up.

His mind turns blank instantly forgetting how to talk, to breathe. His heart pounds in his chest, shaking his whole body to its rapid rhythm. Somehow, words manage to fly from his mouth.

"Lydia! Oh my god, Lydia sweetheart, where are you? Are you alright?!" He has to prop himself up against the wall to keep from toppling over, hardly believing his own ears. 

"I'm scared..and cold.." She sounds exhausted, on the verge of tears.

"I...baby, do you know where you're at?" Mike strains his hearing to listen in. His gut twists, leaving a sick feeling to seep through his body. His nerves are shot, knowing something is off, he can't explain it. 

"Dad..help me! I don-" Her soft, sweet voice distorts and crackles into a horrible roar of pain. 

Both men freeze up in fear. Richie's heart rams against his ribs, mouth hanging open. _'No..please no!'_

"Let go you little brat!" The clown hisses with venom on the other end. 

Silence fills the kitchen.

Richie can only imagine what the fuck is happening to Lydia. He faintly hears her whimpering, followed by another skin crawling growl.

It was like a flip of a switch, snapping from fear to a sizzling rage in an instant. 

"You better start praying for fucking mercy, 'cause when I get my hands on you I'm gonna tear you from the inside out!" He shouts, banging his fist into the wall.

Mike stays glued in place, horrified to move a muscle. He wants to reach out to calm his friend down, but in all honesty, he hesitates to say or do anything. "Richie-"

All of a sudden, the call abruptly cuts out. Leaving a dull ringing tone to buzz in Richie's ear. Shattering his spirit in one fell swoop. "What- no- nono the line- Mike....Mike-" 

Richie stares at the others face for a long, quiet minute. Mike can see the light leaving his dark wide eyes, the quiver in his voice, trembling of his body. His own heart aches painfully watching the last shred of hope escape Richie, crumpling to the floor like a husk of skin and bones before him.

Mike kneels, tucking Rich under his chin holding him tight against his shuddering chest. His sight becoming blurry and wonky. Overwhelmed by the cacophony of emotions still lingering and fighting in the air around them.

Golden rays of sunlight fills the house with a warm honey colored glow, casting shadows to form in odd shapes on the linoleum tiles. 

"...Just let it out.." He speaks softly.

And Richie wails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay safe in the last month of this horrible year and beyond. <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! This chapter gets kinda heavy with implications of suicide and torture. It didn't really come out the way I thought it would, but I'm not complaining. :0  
> OOo also I picture Robert looking more like Roman Godfrey. Maybe I shoulda put that in chapter 3? But ehh, seems relevant here because Robert will be here from now on!

Lydia sits in a corner of the half buried carriage with her knees scrunched up to her chest. Keeping her eyes trained on her boots. Ignoring the hunger pangs stabbing her stomach. When was the last time she ate a proper meal? A loud grumble escapes through her guts, leaving behind a hollow pang in the pit of her belly.

Dried blood streaks down her jaw in a mix of red and inky black. She tried wiping the sticky substance off her face with her sleeve earlier, but to no avail it stains her pale skin.

Using sewer water to clean her face is out of the question. It's beyond unsanitary, let alone a stupid decision for the stinging cuts in her cheeks. Guess that's one way of getting food off her mind. 

How long has it been since that asshole destroyed her phone anyway? Jesus, she doesn't even know what time it is. On top of that, her watch is shattered. She can't read the little numbers even if she squints. She would've tossed it into the sea of junk surrounding her if it wasn't from Beatrice, one of her close friends.

Either way it doesn't matter, Pennywise is going to kill her. Or keep her as a trophy, like the bodies floating high above her. A cold shiver tingles up her back. _'It's only a matter of time..'_

Closing her eyes she rests her head on the rotting wood behind her. She lays a hand over her necklace, gripping it through the fabric of her shirt. 

She never got the chance to talk to Molly- she'll..have no idea what happened- what would she- 

Her throat burns, choking on a sob.

_'Dad- oh god..'_

He rarely yelled, _especially_ like that-

The only time Lydia recalls him raising his voice _like that_ was the day Molly could finally move out of her aunt's house.

The raggedy bitch kept trying to guilt trip Molly into staying so she didn't have to look after her own kids, or clean up after them.

_She and Beatrice were packing up the last of Molly's belongings into a box. A heavy cloud of tension kept everyone on edge. Even Bea's usual sassy attitude seemed nonextant. Lydia tapped up the box, ready to take it out to the car. The yelling came out of nowhere like a nuclear bomb exploded right then and there._

_"You better let go of me, if you know what's good for you, Mr. Tozier!" Mrs. Parker's shrill voice grates on Lydia's crumbling patience._

_"I watched you reel your fuckin' arm back! Tell me you weren't about to smack her! I sure hope to Christ you don't raise your hand to those kids of yours. If I find out, you're in for a world of hurt." His booming voice nearly shakes the walls of the house._

_The girls look at each other in shock and disbelief. Lydia's heart palpitates, fingernails sinking into the cardboard. "Molly.." she gasps. Beatrice's usually dark skin pales, her gaze widens, quickly filling with worry. They rush out of the room to see Molly covering her face, cowering behind a fuming Richie._

After the whole ordeal, she held Molly close all night when they were done setting up her apartment. That was also the night Molly officially started calling Richie 'dad' to his face.

He cried, all four of them did.

_"You're my girls, all three of you. Nobody fucks with any of you and gets away with it."_

She scrunches into a tight ball curling up into herself, wrapping her arms around her legs as best she can. She'd rather go back to that stressful day, than be here crying into her knees trying to ignore the putrid stench of death surrounding her.

If everything went according to plan, she and her father would've left within a few days. And maybe by then, _maybe_ she would've come out to him. Molly would have been there too, feeling just as exposed and vulnerable beside her.

 _'He wouldn't push us away, would he?'_ Her limbs stiffen up, locking in place.

 _'Why did I even ask that? Of course he wouldn't..'_ She scoffs to herself, last morning flashing to the front of her brain.

 _"Don't let me hold you back from the stuff you wanna do with your life, alright?"_ The sincerity in his voice, his eyes, hits her harder the second time around. Slicing the wounds deeper.

 _'He loves us..'_

Happy memories flit to the surface. Her and Molly quoting _Finding Nemo_ throughout the whole movie. While he stares at them clearly fed up with their shit, yet an amused smile graces his face.

_'He loves me.'_

Every hug, 'I love you', even his stupid jokes, pour salt into those bleeding sores.

She'll never get to see him again. Or Molly. Or Beatrice and her other friends. None of them - except her dad - would have the slightest clue of what happened to her.

It hurts. Everything hurts. Her face is too hot compared to the rest of her body, her throat burns with an uncomfortable tight squeeze. Her shoulder throbs in pain. From the tips of her fingers to the bottom of her feet, a gross fuzzy numb feeling engulfs her. Lydia's head feels as if a swarm of hornets have burrowed into it. Buzzing about, and smacking off the inside of her skull.

 _'I want my dad..'_ The buzzing only gets worse, the more she thinks about him.

She squeezes her fingers into the flesh of her legs.

 _'I want Molly..'_ A sob escapes her.

A soft tap on her head startles her, halting the increasingly horrible buzzing to a standstill. 

Lydia scowls, gritting her teeth. Expecting the clown to be there.

She lifts her head to see a young boy standing in front of her. About twelve or thirteen, with short curly sandy brown hair. His wide earthy eyes stare at her with a loaded question, an uneasy look twists his eyebrows together.

How the hell did he find her in the first place? His clothes are stainless, as far as she can tell. Which is odd to say the least. Gauze is wrapped under his chin and circling his forehead. It covers the sides of his cheeks, matting a small patch of his springy bangs to his head. 

Her frown turns to shock, then confusion. Her gaze drops to his out stretched hand and back up to his soft features. A nagging feeling tells her that she should trust him, even though they've just met. She can't explain it, no matter how hard she stares at him.

"You know the way out?" she asks softly. He nods slowly, waiting patiently for her to take his hand. 

They splash through grimy tunnels in silence, the boys old flashlight illuminating their way. He hasn't spoken a single word and yet Lydia has blindly put her trust in him. The questions she has lined up to ask him are the most simple things to say, but the words stick to the sides of her throat. Why is she nervous? She's never been this cautious before, not like this.

When she works up the courage to speak, he looks back at her with a solemn glance squeezing her hand lightly. He shakes his head, a melancholic look darkens his eyes. Like he read her mind. Her questions die as quickly as they came. Leaving her with a sickening sense of dread. 

Turning down a rather cramped tunnel, the boy squeezes her hand again. As if he knows she's starting to freak out. Lydia can't help planting her feet at the edge of the smaller tunnel. Her breathing picks up, eyes scanning the circumference of the rocky tunnel. He looks her dead in the eye tilting his head toward it, tugging her arm lightly.

"I-I can't-" She pulls back, letting go of his hand. Lydia's chest seizes up causing her to stumble backwards. 

She steadies herself on the slick metal, taking in far more of the disgusting air for her liking to calm her anxiety. Being cornered by a psychotic killer clown is one thing. But crawling through a tight space is too much, _too much_ for her to handle.

The boy sporadically reaches for her but stops short, fear carves into his features. 

Before Lydia knows it, thick fingers tug on her overalls. Hurling her back against a broad chest, knocking the air from her lungs. All the while an arm snakes around her middle. Silky fingers clasp her cheeks squeezing into the wounds there. The clown giggles in delight at her pained mewls, mocking her cries to let her go. 

"We were sooo close to getting out.." Pennywise coos in her ear, tightening his hold on her twisting body. Spit dribbles down her neck. "Too bad this was the way Stanny boy took you." He laughs, glaring at Stan with gleeful malice. "I'm surprised he came back at all." 

The boy stares at Lydia, terror paints his face. She pleads silently for him to help her. He frowns, mouthing _'I'm sorry'_ then fades into nothing before them. Shock tingles up her limbs. "That's it Stanley, cower when there is no way out!" The clown spits, grinning ear to ear.

Immediately a flash blinds Lydia's vision.

She sees white tiles? A bathroom? Warm thick steam hazes over her exposed skin obscuring her sight. It feels so nice compared to the foul, cold sewer. She could stay here forever in this inviting warmth. A tangy smell fills the air, similar to copper. Maybe she's smelling herself? She really needs a shower, or a bath. Either one would be amazing right now.

She steps further into the bathroom, catching sight of a bathtub. However, it looks like someone's already in it. Embarrassed she swivels around ready to bolt from the area.

"I'm sorry." 

A male voice speaks softly, stopping her mid-step. Lydia looks over her shoulder in the direction of the bath, heart pounding in her chest. Light drips echo off the walls, putting her on edge.

"I tried my best-"

Red pulls her attention down, her stomach sinks. How did she not notice the blood earlier? Turning around again, she sees bloody boot prints. Boot prints that were made by _her._

Lydia's at a loss of words. She can hardly make out the shape of his silhouette. His head is resting on the side of the tub, one arm hanging halfway off the rim. Red pools to the middle of the floor in front of her. 

"Don't-" the voice pleads when she goes to take another step forward.

"I chose to do this.." She hesitates, understanding the underlining of what he means. But why would he..

"Whatever you do- run, run as far as you can from It-" His words whisper like a dying candle.

The dripping stops. Silence takes over the room, all she can hear is the sound of her trembling breath.

 _'Run as far as I can from It? The clown?'_

Maniacal high pitch laughter blows the door open, almost knocking it off the hinges. She doesn't have time to twist around or run the other way. The insane laughter seems to swallow her. A slimy black tentacle cracks around her wrist. She claws at it, digging her finger tips under it to pry the damn thing off. She yelps when another wet tentacle snatches her free wrist.

It slithers up the length of her arm constricting like a snake. Whimpering she pulls away with all her might, trying to free herself. Her boots screech on the bloody tiles with each tug she manages to get. She relaxes to rest before attempting to pull herself free again. All at once the tentacles yank her back, smashing her to the floor.

Something squishy saves her head from banging off the hard tiles. It curls up her neck squeezing harshly, slithering up across her cheek. Leaving behind a slick trail of..slime or is it mucus? What the _fuck_ is that?

Either way, the tentacles drag Lydia kicking and screaming out of the warm light of the bathroom, and into a dark cold abyss. The door slams shut just as her feet fall from the tiles. The last thing she can see are gleaming yellow-orange pupiless eyes and hundreds of sharp gnarled teeth waiting for her.

With a jolt she opens her eyes letting out a cry, coming back to her body. Her lungs burn, as if she has been dunked under water for longer than a minute. The clown giggles behind her, still grasping her middle and face. The chill of the sewer quickly spreads over her, sinking into her skin again. He forces her head into an awkward position to look up at him.

"Run all you want, _doll face._ But every road will lead back here, one way or another." Pennywise breathes in Lydia's sweet scent, taking in her irritated glare. She side-eyes him with those dark eyes of hers. He hears her before she even says it out loud.

"Aren't you going to kill me?" All he can muster is a cocky smile, boring into her confused glower. The girl stills, taking ragged breaths. Waiting for something that just won't happen, not now. She's far too much fun to toy with.

"Not yet." He hums, dropping his arm to tangle around her waist with his other limb. Her body shudders, he closes his eyes with a pleased sigh.

Just to rub it in he sneers. "Wanna see how close you were, _Sunshine?"_

Either way it won't matter to him. He needs to eat again before he fully loses control over himself and loses his shiny new toy. 

And that dug out tunnel is the closest exit. Lydia will just have to deal with it.

He has to shred his own tongue to bits as a distraction from the delicious fright wriggling in his arms. Her whimpering cries don't help whatsoever.

 _'It would be so easy..'_ Bloody drool escapes the corner of his mouth, nearly missing her hair.

 _'Poor thing wouldn't even feel it coming.'_

His physical form wraps around Lydia. Covering her from the neck down, appearing to her as a cluster of devil's snare from _Harry Potter_. Her squirming proves to be a major setback. He is trying so hard to be lenient, to not crush every bone in her weak little body out of sheer annoyance. He has no choice but to constrict her movements while crawling through to the opening.

Being the relentless asshole he craves to be, he reforms at the top of the well. Slowly reeling her up, taking pride in the demeaning insults she keeps throwing at him. They're nothing he hasn't heard before, especially from Richie.

He rolls his eyes, ignoring every bit of speech that flies out of her mouth. 

As soon as her feet hit the floor, she makes a mad dash for the stairs. She won't get far, he'll make sure of that. Besides, it's more fun to watch hope sizzle out like a dying flame. 

In a flash she thunders up the steps, quickly taking in the sight of hundreds of cobwebs fanning between pealing wallpaper and broken floorboards. The last golden rays of sunlight spill through the windows.

She sees it!

The door- her ticket for freedom! It's right there across the way, all she needs to do is run for it!

Every step feels like a mile too far, like she's not running fast enough. She reaches her hand out for the knob, can almost feel the cool metal under her palm. If only she went through the tunnel earlier, she would've been outta this hell sooner if she just ignored her stupid claustrophobia. 

Lydia nearly slams into the door, twisting the doorknob and pulls it open. She blinks before slamming the door shut, squawking in fright as she does so. Effectively jamming Pennywise's hand, and shoe, between the doorframe. He lets out a pained cackling growl. 

Buying a little time she splits for the kitchen, if she's lucky there might be a back door.

To her surprise, there is. But there's another problem. The man in the black suit that was handing out those balloons at the fair is standing between her and the door. Except he doesn't have his bundle of red balloons, and is missing his jacket. Exposing his stainless white button down shirt and vest. Behind her the front door slams shut.

_'Fuck!'_

"What's the plan now Lids?" The man waves, smiling sweetly leering at her. Freezing her to the spot, it's too late anyway, the sweet smell of bubblegum mixed with buttered popcorn takes over her senses. Pennywise's horrid breath hits her neck, sending chills down her spine.

"Nowhere left to run." He chimes in a sing-song voice behind her. Skittering his fingers down her shoulders, curling them around her arms. That doesn't stop her from struggling in his grip. The clown sighs in annoyance, so does the man. Goosebumps trickle up and down her body, screaming at her to do something more than this.

"You bastard! Let me go! Fuck _off!!"_ Lydia keeps squirming side to side, regardless if it helps or not. His grip getting tighter and tighter. The man strides up to the pair quietly, pinching her chin in between his thumb and pointer finger. Which makes her stop what she's doing and focus on him.

Her large eyes widen even more. If they open any wider, he swears they could destroy this whole universe, sucking every last being into them.

"Such a dirty mouth for such a pretty face." His lips curl into a cheshire grin at the darkening blush on her cheeks. 

"What? Clown got your tongue? No snippy comments to make? Shame to say I'm disappointed." He pouts. The brat stares up at him, eyes clearly stating she won't go down without a fight. She hasn't given up yet. Which is fun and all, however will wear down his patience eventually. When that will happen, he has no clue. 

"Aww or is it that compliments make you uncomfortable?" He raises an eyebrow continuing on. "No? Still nothing?"

She whips her head to the side, breaking his daunting cerulean gaze. Freeing her chin from his icy grip. The clowns fingers pinch into her arms. 

"Or is it because I'm appearing as a man?" He asks leaning closer, in turn she pushes back into the clown, her heart jumping to her throat. Answering his question without needing to speak. 

Humming a laugh, he forces her to look at him again, feeling her shake under his touch. He's barely holding her jaw, hardly has to. Maybe breaking her will be easier than he thought. He has all the time in the world to find out.

Bloody drool lands on her cheek, staining a thin black line down her face that his eyes follow. He swallows a mouth full of saliva, wiping her cheek clean.

He needs to hurry.

* * *

Low and behold a lovely game of baseball is playing tonight. The three of them stand under the bleachers. One waiting for a good time to lure an unsuspecting meal to him. While the other two wait in the dark. He can kill two birds with one stone. Pennywise knows the girl must be starving too. He doubts she'll keep anything down if he feeds her first. Especially after watching him eat.

For now he keeps an eye on Lydia with his _'human'_ form. That seems to keep her in line, mostly out of fear. In most cases it's a good thing for him, but it only strikes as an annoyance now. Making his hunger unbearable.

Lydia keeps a good distance from- what did he say his name was? Rodney? Rodger? Robert? -Whatever his name is- She stands about a good four feet from him, hugging herself for comfort.

Occasionally she glances at him, watching his movements. He's leaning on one of the beams making it painfully obvious that he's watching her too. He wiggles his fingers at her, with a snarky grin that makes her want to throw a brick at his face.

The glint in his eye challenges her to throw one. As therapeutic as it would be to throw a damn rock at that asshole's head, what would the repercussion be? He finally gets tired of her shit and kills her, _that_ would be it. She's sure of that scenario. 

He snorts, rolling his ever so blue orbs at her. His bangs fall in his eyes as he shakes his head. 

Lydia squints, growling at him. "Stay outta my head, _asshole!"_

"It's kind of hard to when you're _yelling_ in your own head, _darling_. Can hardly hear _myself_ think." He stares pointedly at her, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Don't like it, you can always get rid of me! Let me go back to my dad so we can fuck off back to California!" She argues.

"Unfortunately sweetheart, I can't do that. Not now." A tiny smile creases his lush lips. He pushes off the beam taking slow paced steps toward her. 

For every step he takes, Lydia moves back. "What the fuck does that mean?" She asks not really wanting to know his answer.

His smile widens into a full grin, stopping to lean on another beam closer to her. "Oh wouldn't you like to know?" He tilts his head, with a knowing look.

Lydia glares at him, taking a few more steps back. Not particularly fond of his closeness or his secrets.

Off to the right near the entrance of the bleachers, tiny flashing catches her attention. A little blond haired girl follows after what Lydia assumes to be a firefly. 

Wait why would it..fireflies don't..

Then it clicks.

"No-" Lydia's gaze snaps back to Robert. Her mouth goes dry. His glare seers through her. 

"Hey-" Lydia waves at the little girl, trying to get her attention. But she doesn't acknowledge Lydia's voice. Instead she tries to catch the firefly. Missing it, and continues to follow it passing by them completely oblivious to their existence.

"She can't hear or see us." He sighs, watching Lydia's resolve crumble.

"She's just a little girl." Her voice catches, covering her mouth still watching the little girl.

"Your point is?" He states flatly.

"You're fucking sick.." She trembles, in a mix of bubbling rage and fear. Robert can't help the chuckle that escapes him.

"I- I-..You already- You could..-" Panic wells up inside of her, she doesn't even finish her sentence. Her eyes franticly jump between the little girl and Robert.

"Eat you?" He calls out, his eyebrows fly up. Scoffing, his marbly blues burrow into her. "You are _not_ for eating sweetheart."

What? Then what is she even doing here? What is his angle? She stares back at him speechless. 

The loud smack of a bell startles her and the little girl. Both jumping in fright. The sound pulls her to watch the clown reveal himself with an orange dim light from the shadows. 

"Hello Vicky. Isn't that what your friends call you, Vicky? How did I know that? I guess I must be your friend too!" He giggles with a toothy smile.

"If you are my friend then why are you hiding in the dark? You're not my friend, you're scary." Vicky backs up twisting around to leave, clearly smarter than the clown thought she'd be. Lydia lets out a heavy sigh, feeling ten pounds lighter.

Only to have a sense of dread blossom in her chest when the bastard dips his head low and starts crying. Crying fucking crocodile tears. Vicky turns around near the entrance of the bleachers, looking back at Pennywise. Lydia wants to scream at her to run even if she can't hear her.

"Why are you crying?" Worry etching her small face.

"People always make fun cause of the way I look. I thought if you couldn't see my face, then maybe you'd want to be my friend. Oh silly ol' Pennywise, you'll never have no friends!" The wolf in sheep's clothing cries, shaking his bulbus head.

"People make fun of me too." Vicky states sadly.

Clenching her fists, Lydia bends down picking up a few good sized rocks that fit easily in the palm of her hand. Their conversation muffles out of her quiet rage.

"Don't you dare-"

Lydia ignores Robert. Ignores everything around her. She can't watch this happen and not try to stop this monster. Is she scared? Hell yes, but does that matter? No- not if she can save Vicky. She has to try.

And if this is the only way. Lydia can die happy.

"Leave her alone you fucking twat!" She screams, throwing one of the rocks as hard as she possibly can, aiming for the clown's face. 

It cracks into the side of his temple closer to his eye. He snarls in pain, crushing the bug in his hand, snuffing the light out. Vicky yelps at the sudden darkness, slowly backpedaling towards the exit.

A blur of white swooshes by Lydia, quickly followed by a shrill scream and snapping of bones. She goes pale, feeling sick to her stomach. 

Before she can register anything else but the horrific slurping behind her, she's smashed to the dirt by Robert. Having her breath knocked out of her. 

He sits on her lower back like a frog, pinning her to the ground. One of his hands on her back is enough to keep her from shimmying away from him. 

She scrabbles around reaching for anything to whip behind her. Yelling on the top of her lungs. "Get off!"

Robert drops most of his weight on her, leaning down to snatch her wrists. Black blood oozes down his face, droplets get lost in her inky hair.

"You just keep on pissing me off in allll the wrong ways sweetheart." He hisses.

"First time was reasonable. _Daddy dearest's_ life was on the line. Then you had to go and sink your little fangs in my hand. And I'll admit it, _that_ caught me off guard. But ooohh boy..this. _This_ one takes the fucking piss out of me." He grunts squeezing her middle with his legs, getting a high from her whimpering.

"Clearly I've been too lenient on you. I really didn't want to punish you, but I guess that I _have_ to set an example." Robert holds her right arm in place, intentionally pulling it too far to strain her injured shoulder.

"What pretty nails you have, dear. All trimmed and painted, what color is that? Lilac? It'd be a shame to lose them, yeah?" He purrs in laughter.

"Please not..not my fingers!" She cries into the dirt. Paralyzed by the shocking numbness she feels in her shoulder.

"Quite stubby, aren't they?" He taunts. "Anyway, three for three? Sounds fair to me Sunshine!" Robert dismisses her pleas, letting them fade as background sound.

Her whole body tenses and stiffens up. She doesn't even move her other arm when he delicately traces around her fingers, failing to decide on which one to start with.

A brilliant idea rings through his head making a thrilling chill race up his spine.

"Eeny," He starts on her ring finger.

"Meeny," Tracing back to her pointer.

"Miny," Then to her middle finger.

"Moe," He pauses on her ring finger, basking in the wonderful aroma wafting from her. Drool pools in his mouth faster than he can swallow.

He keeps going, moving finger to finger with each word. "Catch a tiger by the toe. If he hollers, let him go."

"Eeny," 

"Meeny,"

"Miny,"

"Moe."

"My mother told me to pick the very best one,"

"And that is y-o-u," 

"So o-u-t goes y-o-u!"

Excitement raddles around in his stomach, ending on her pointer finger. 

"Guess we'll just go down the line then, huh?" He states halfheartedly. 

Time seems to slow down for her.

Every nerve in her body stands on end, as he grips her nail between both his pointer and thumb. Her breath comes in shallow paces.

She seals her eyes shut, feeling every inch of her skin blister and crackle in sizzling pain as Robert starts pulling her nail up and away.

He digs his own nail under hers popping it up like a can lid.

She screeches, feeling blood immediately gush to the surface.

Getting a better hold on her nail now, he rips it forward like he's tearing tape from a roll. Amazed that he got the whole thing off in one go.

Her babbling cries only fuel his sick lust to taste her fear on his tongue. It's right here in front of him. Teasing his hunger to feel her flesh slice between his teeth. Just like a medium rare steak. Seasoned exactly the way he likes it.

As much as he would love to rip into her tender flesh, he holds his animalistic urges back. Making a mental note to find another meal before heading to the asylum.

He shooshes in her ear in a mocking attempt of how her father would when she was little. 

"Please-" she whimpers helplessly. " Please don't-"

Robert shooshes her again, giving her a breather. Lightly tracing around her middle fingernail.

"It'll all be over before you know it." He hums lowly, sucking down saliva. 

She squirms under him, her head bangs into his chest crying out for him to stop. Kicking her feet into the stones and dirt when he ignores her. Intentionally going slow with this nail, milking all he can from this one. He wiggles and pulls at it little by little loosing it up from the nailbed, tips of his fingers getting painted red with her sticky blood.

This one squelches out with a pleasing pop. Her soft gasps, squirming and pleading easily take his mind to another problem that has reared its head.

She hasn't noticed it yet, hasn't _felt_ it yet. And he hopes it stays that way. Once that floodgate is open, there will be no holding back. Although he has been a little on the nose with his flirting. 

Thing is, she doesn't care about the flirting. _He_ knows that. To her they are just words. But the underlining of what he _says_ to her, is what he _wants_ from her. The staring is what points it out to her, but right now her poor mind is scattered around wailing in agony. 

He must've zoned out not realizing he tore out her ring fingernail right after her middle.

Playing it cool, he coos in a mocking voice. "See, it didn't take that long." 

_'Oh fuck you.'_ She yells in her head with exhausted anger, knowing he'll hear her. 

He chuckles darkly. Flipping Lydia onto her back, still holding her wrist.

Her face is beet red, tear tracks break up the bloody mess that her cheeks have been. Sweat has matted loose hairs to her forehead. Wheezing breaths puff from her mouth. 

He takes in a steep breath, ripping his eyes from her face to her hand. Inspecting his work, bringing it closer to his face. 

The thick smell of grape wine hits his senses. Without thinking he wraps his lips around her pointer finger softly sucking on her blood. Getting lost in the heavenly taste. Robert didn't even realize he closed his eyes until she starts pulling away.

Pure horror consumes her gaze. He tightens his grip on her wrist, comically popping her finger out of his mouth. Quickly taking the other two in, swapping between either of them. Licking, sucking any and all the blood clean from her fingers. 

He stares deep into her, deeper than he has with any other human. 

She is completely disgusted by him, and he loves it. He hums around her fingers, wanting so badly to bite down. But he resists the temptation, pulling them from his curling tongue. A string of thick saliva connects from his lips to the tip of her ring finger.

Maybe after this is over, she'll listen to him- to an extent. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey don't be afraid to throw your thoughts down in the comments! As always, happy reading and please stay safe!

**Author's Note:**

> Happy reading, and stay safe fam!


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